Chapter Three

Half a year after the previous collective execution of the Eight Banners nobility, the Han Army's military government carried out a second large-scale massacre. This time, the victims were mostly the great Han landlords of the capital region—or rather, those present to receive punishment were mostly their families. As members of the upper class, these people were exceptionally well-informed; when Tu Hai was defeated and took his own life, many of them realized their predicament and fled long before the axe could fall. Naturally, in such perilous times, their families lacked the same means to escape, and were soon arrested by Chen Menglei’s troops.

For Lin Feng himself, after all this time maneuvering through this era, the only real change was that he gradually grew accustomed to the disregard for human life. When he first signed the order for the execution of the Eight Banners noblewomen and children, he was wracked by intense emotional struggle; but now, he had clearly “improved.” Upon receiving the execution documents this time, he did not hesitate—he swept his brush across the page, and hundreds of innocent lives were silenced, powerless before the ambition of empire.

Amid the stench of blood and the enthusiastic cooperation of the merchants, the prices of goods in the capital region were finally brought under control. Lin Feng devoted immense energy to this matter. Though the Han Army’s occupation was not vast, there were several small grain-producing areas, such as the Baiyangdian lakes within Baoding Prefecture. During this period, Li Guangdi and the merchants organized several large mule caravans to purchase grain from these areas and transport it to Beijing. Meanwhile, the merchants, guided by the chamber of commerce, gradually released their hoarded cloth, salt, and condiments into the market in an organized, step-by-step fashion. With this, the panic that had gripped the people slowly subsided, and within the city walls, order returned.

By now, although the Han Army had won a decisive military victory, they found themselves suffocated by this enormous burden.

The combined population of Zhili Province and the Beijing Shuntian Prefecture jurisdiction was less than eight million, yet they now had to support an extra 1.7 million mouths.

Nothing was more terrifying for Lin Feng and his Han Army than this. On paper, 1.7 million people was just a light number—but everyone knew that these destitute and desperate masses could easily topple every city wall in Zhili.

Previously, this issue had not received enough attention, for two reasons: first, Tu Hai’s army had been a constant threat, and under the weight of military pressure, the Han Army could not spare any thought for these “ant-like commoners.” Second, the climate—summers in China are generally hot, and at the time, vegetation flourished in the capital and Zhili region. During this season, some of the refugees survived outdoors; the able-bodied became “wheat reapers,” working short stints for landlords and farmers, while others survived on bark, leaves, wild grass, and even clay. Due to the wheat harvest, many landlords, under strict orders from the Han Army, had set up porridge kitchens, allowing more than a million people to eke out a meager existence within the bounds of social order.

The Han Army’s government had already expanded the corpse-collecting team three times. Previously, the situation was less dire, and Lin Feng had organized the surviving eunuchs from the last war into a corpse-collecting team. But in just one short month, these thousand or so eunuchs could no longer gather all the bodies accumulating outside Beijing’s walls.

Outside Beijing, a grotesque and “prosperous” market appeared. Countless gaunt people, with grass stalks stuck in their hair, knelt in neat rows, submitting themselves to barter.

The city’s brothels gained a flood of new workers and flourished, while the great houses and wealthy families acquired large numbers of cheap, able-bodied servants to replenish their household staffs.

The overall crisis brought Lin Feng two advantages. Previously, the Han Army’s massacre of traitorous landlords in Zhili had severely damaged his political reputation, inducing panic among the landlord class and earning the disapproval of many wealthy households in the capital. But this timely influx of refugees offset all that. In the face of a disaster threatening every social class, these people cast aside their doubts and stood firmly by Lin Feng’s side. Wang Dahai’s city garrison also directly benefited—when he strengthened defenses, the wealthy families mobilized their servants to repair fortifications, transport cannons and ammunition, and many even donated money and grain outright to curry favor with the Han Army officers.

Having completed his recruitment assignment, Li Guangdi looked haggard. Over half a year of intense work had at first left him flushed with pride, but it had also taken a severe toll on his health. When Lin Feng first met him, Li Guangdi had been a handsome, spirited young man, a true gentleman in troubled times. But eight months later, his complexion had turned a sickly orange-yellow, and his once-bright eyes were now sunken deep in their sockets. Once a devout follower of the ancient teachings, his excellent composure had given way to frequent, uncharacteristic outbursts of temper, straining his relationship with his wife to the breaking point.

“My lord…” Li Guangdi gave a shallow bow, and before Lin Feng could respond, he hurriedly drew a slip of paper from his boot, his face contorted with pain. “My lord, the cold was bitter last night—over nine hundred more refugees died outside the city…”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry…” Lin Feng’s own face was sallow; he too had not slept a wink. He reached out and took the slip, looking at Li Guangdi with concern. “Jinqing, you don’t look well. Why not take a few days’ rest? I’ll have Peigong and Zezhen fill in for you for a while…”

“There’s no need, my lord,” Li Guangdi replied with a bitter smile, shaking his head. “I am not yet forty, and this body can endure a little more…” He forced himself to continue, his face drained of all color. “Today, the eunuchs collecting the corpses reported that some of the bodies they buried yesterday were dug up again. Outside the city, the flesh of a child, twenty catties’ worth, can be bartered for a young woman, while thirty catties of adult meat is required for the same…” He struggled to suppress his emotions. “The daily porridge kitchens do nothing to ease the suffering. The strong may snatch a half bowl, but the old and the children get nothing…”

“Yes…” Lin Feng lowered his head, absently turning the slip in his hand, sighing, “A million refugees—how can a few porridge kitchens possibly suffice…”

“Please…please, my lord, give the order for Tongzhou…” Li Guangdi watched Lin Feng’s face carefully. Seeing his expression darken, he could not help but fall to his knees, trembling, “My lord…commander…there is no time to lose. I beg you to show mercy…”

“Jinqing!” Lin Feng suddenly stood, his face twisted in anguish. “You bring this up again—do you truly not know? How can we touch the grain in Tongzhou? Even if I risk using military rations, it’s a drop in the ocean—how will that feed one or two million mouths? And when the grain is gone, what will we do? What of our army? What of our soldiers’ families?!”

“…”

“Even if we distribute the grain now and everyone makes it through the winter, what then come spring? These million refugees, with their families in tow, cannot return home while war rages on. Our region has no spare land, no oxen, no seed. And if we have no army left, what do you think will happen to us?!”

“But… but…” Li Guangdi looked up, his voice trembling, “Are we to let a million of our people starve to death?”

“Of course not! Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t dare!” Lin Feng’s face darkened. “Do you think they’ll just sit and wait to die? If this goes on much longer, someone will rise up and rally them, and then they’ll storm the city!”

“If that’s the case… then my lord, what solution do you have?” Li Guangdi was startled, snapping out of his grief.

“I called you here today for this very matter. I have already made up my mind…” Seeing Li Guangdi’s body tense and his expression turn grim, Lin Feng hastened to reassure him, “Jinqing, don’t worry—this was my decision alone. Peigong, Zezhen, and Dahai know nothing of it, nor have I ever discussed it with them.” He patted Li Guangdi’s shoulder and smiled. “You are my loyal right hand. If there were anyone I’d consult, it would certainly be you.”

Li Guangdi hurriedly cut him off, bowing deeply. “My lord, you honor me too much; I have not the slightest doubt…”

“Enough, enough, let’s not dwell on this,” Lin Feng said with a hearty laugh, before his expression grew solemn. “I didn’t consult you all about this because it’s too monstrous. But there’s no other way. I am commander of the Han Army and your lord; this is a burden only I can bear…” He sighed, his face clouded. “If future historians record this, let the shame be mine alone—it has nothing to do with you.”

Li Guangdi looked up in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing.