Chapter 522: Turning Them All Into Workers
Yang He's rhetoric was entirely predictable, and they had already devised a counter-strategy.
Xing Honglang offered a slight bow, a faint smile touching her lips. "Lord Yang," she began, "I, your humble servant, dare to present a small request..."
Yang He's brows knitted in a deep frown. Of course, pacified rebels always made demands. His concern wasn't just *what* she would ask for, but whether he could even *meet* those demands.
Xing Honglang continued, "Everyone in the martial world knows that I, Xing Honglang, hail from Yongji. Now that I've become an imperial official, it's only natural to wish for a glorious return home. I humbly request the court to grant me the position of Puzhou Garrison Commander. From that point on, I would lead my forces to safeguard the peace of my homeland. Wouldn't that be a magnificent arrangement?"
The request itself wasn't entirely unexpected.
The office itself could be granted, but the Puzhou Deputy Commander—a man appointed just days ago—had been killed by her, and now she immediately sought the Puzhou Garrison Commander post. From any perspective, the situation felt...peculiar.
Could it be that she had eliminated him precisely to claim his post?
The thought churned in Yang He's mind.
Just then, Xing Honglang continued, "Your Excellency also knows that I was once a salt smuggler. My business acumen is quite considerable, and all my followers are capable of supporting themselves through trade, negating any need for the imperial court to allocate resettlement funds."
His momentary suspicion vanished instantly. *Damn it*, he thought, *who cares if she killed Wang Guozhong for the position? As long as she doesn't demand money from me, everything is negotiable.*
Yang He didn't hesitate. "Excellent," he declared, "then it is settled."
As Supreme Commander of the Three Borders, Yang He wielded immense power. Appointing a mere garrison commander required no consultation; a swift stroke of his brush would suffice, and the matter would be finalized.
He was about to offer a few more words of commendation when, abruptly, a lone rider on a galloping horse burst into the city. The man was disheveled, frantic as if he'd just suffered a personal tragedy. He tumbled from his saddle before Yang He, gasping, "Lord Yang, grave news! Disaster! Shen Yikui has rebelled again! He's captured Ningze County City!"
Yang He's heart seized. Shen Yikui commanded the most formidable rebel faction remaining in Shaanxi, the one that hadn't crossed into Shanxi. Not only did they boast substantial numbers, but their ranks were bolstered by experienced border army veterans, making them incredibly potent in battle. Yang He had relentlessly pursued a policy of appeasement with them, only for them to revolt again so soon after his departure. He let out a deep sigh. "What fresh trouble is he causing now?"
"I don't know, Your Excellency, but...Ningze County City has fallen," the knight reported swiftly. "I implore you to dispatch troops at once, or vast swathes of land will once again be ravaged."
Yang He pressed, "And Du Wenhuan? Where is he now?"
A nearby attendant leaned in, whispering, "Lord Yang, when Shen Yikui slaughtered Du Wenhuan's entire clan, you chose to pacify Shen Yikui instead. That infuriated Du Wenhuan. He won't obey your orders anymore; you can't command him."
Yang He fell silent.
An unnerving silence descended, stretching for several agonizing seconds. Then, Yang He broke it. "What about Cao Wenzhao? Where is he stationed?"
A subordinate stepped forward. "Reporting, General Cao Wenzhao is currently pursuing Wang Jiayin's remnants, near Jinyang."
Yang He commanded, "Tell him to cease the pursuit for now. Wang Jiayin is dead, after all, and his remnants are hardly a threat. Let those insignificant stragglers go. Order him to return to Shaanxi at once and handle Shen Yikui."
The subordinate saluted and departed swiftly.
Yang He sighed, turning to Xing Honglang. "General Xing, you've heard what just transpired, alas. This is truly... Well, you absolutely must not follow Shen Yikui's example of fickleness. As long as you wholeheartedly pledge your loyalty to the court, you will undoubtedly be treated with honor. I must hasten back to Shaanxi to address Shen Yikui's rebellion. I shall take my leave now. For any further matters, please consult with the Puzhou Magistrate."
With that, Yang He quickly gathered his entourage and, accompanied by He Renlong, sped back towards Northern Shaanxi.
Xing Honglang and Padi Tu exchanged bewildered glances, unsure how to react.
It was Qiu Qianfan, the Puzhou Magistrate, who then sidled over, clasping his hands in a respectful gesture to Xing Honglang. "General Xing," he said, "from this day forward, we—one civil, one military—shall govern this territory together. I trust we can rely on your considerable support and guidance."
His demeanor toward Xing Honglang was immeasurably warmer than it had ever been toward Wang Guozhong; indeed, he was positively amiable.
What was this called?
As you sow, so shall you reap.
Act with integrity and benevolence, and people will naturally respond in kind.
Conversely, those who conduct themselves poorly often find themselves met with animosity wherever they go. Why? Because they invite nothing but scorn.
Xing Honglang returned the magistrate's bow. "Indeed, let us extend our mutual support, then."
Magistrate Qiu's tone immediately shifted, dropping conspiratorially low. "This official actually sent inquiries," he murmured. "General Xing, you're running a textile factory at the dock? Good heavens, how many people can you employ at that little dock? Why not establish a textile factory here, in Puzhou City? The urban population is vast, making it far easier to hire workers."
Xing Honglang chuckled. "Lord Qiu, remember you said that. I might truly bring the textile factory over."
Magistrate Qiu laughed, "Oh, please do! The sight of these refugees gives this official a splitting headache. It would be ideal if you could take them all into your factories."
Xing Honglang lowered her voice further. "This old dame has colossal ambitions, you know. I plan to build cement plants, fertilizer factories, establish mines, iron foundries, carpentry workshops, ceramic kilns... In any case, you're aware I was once a salt smuggler, and my greatest pleasure is making money. I wish I could earn every single copper coin in the world, and ideally, have every last citizen of this city working for me."
Magistrate Qiu's delight was palpable. "Excellent, truly excellent!" he exclaimed. "Build as many factories as you like; just build them! Mining, quarrying, whatever you wish—I guarantee full approval for everything. The truth is, these days, no grain can be grown, and the common people have no work. They're all staring at me expectantly, waiting for gruel, but what gruel can I possibly offer? I can barely feed myself! Take them all to work; as long as you can pay their wages, this official welcomes it with open arms and legs!"
Xing Honglang chuckled conspiratorially.
Magistrate Qiu echoed her, a similar sly chuckle escaping him.
Thus, in the blink of an eye, the two reached an unspoken agreement: to transform all the disaster victims into laborers. The poor folk of Puzhou were still blissfully unaware that a specter—the specter of capitalism—had already extended its grasping claws toward them...
Yet, when this specter finally seized them, they felt no pain; quite the opposite, they felt only elation.
For, despite capitalism's myriad imperfections, it still represented a marginal improvement over feudalism.
Meanwhile, in the south of Jinyang, deep within Shennong Mountain...
Li Zicheng, leading his loyal Old Eighth Squad—the core group who had followed him from Mizhi to forge their destiny—was in desperate flight.
He had just suffered a devastating defeat!
Though the Old Eighth Squad was renowned for its ferocity, against Cao Wenzhao's elite Guanning Iron Cavalry, they were utterly outmatched—like prey caught in a brutal, spiraling assault.
Cao Wenzhao's cavalry had shattered the Old Eighth Squad in a single charge, leaving Li Zicheng's forces scattered, their helmets and armor abandoned in their desperate scramble. He had been forced to flee into Shennong Mountain, but Cao Wenzhao remained hot on his heels, with no intention of granting him quarter.
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