My enemies became my companions

Chapter 633 The Rebels (Two Chapters Combined)

The group headed toward the farmhouses and fields not far away. The bodies were left where they were; they were not buried on the spot, nor were they destroyed. They simply left the bodies there so that their relatives could come and collect them.

Chen Yi sat on his horse, following closely behind Qin Qingluo's pace, as thoughts raced through his mind.

Human hearts are made of flesh and blood; how could anyone remain unmoved by such a scene?
These bandits wanted to kill people and steal horses, attack government soldiers, and even rammed the Annam King's ranks. It was only natural to kill them according to the law. But who forced them to become bandits?

Chen Yi took a deep breath and calmed his emotions.

Zhu E had told him about the customs and culture of the southern border region, including the powerful clans there. Unlike the Central Plains, the southern border region was not orderly and well-governed. The kings of Annam throughout the ages had to frequently tour various places. The biggest reason for this was that each county had a chieftain family, with officials such as chieftains, prefects, garrison commanders, and inspectors. These powerful local families were like local tyrants, and if they were not suppressed, the chieftains would turn around and seize the royal palace once they became too powerful. Not to mention chieftain counties, they would even seize the tax revenue and population of directly administered counties. If the king of Annam had lived and died in the deep palace like the emperors of the Central Plains, the entire royal palace would probably have existed in name only long ago.

Therefore, conflict and fighting were inevitable. The royal families of Annam throughout history rarely reduced their troops. Sometimes, when the southern border was stable and it was impossible to train troops for war, they would go north to conquer the Sichuan area of ​​the Western Jin Dynasty, or go south to plunder small countries such as Ailao, Rakhine, and Kamarupa. Over the past three hundred years, they have also invaded India several times. The kings of Annam throughout history have abducted many Brahmin women as concubines.

The horses entered the manor in complete silence.

The manor was not a luxurious pavilion or tower typical of the Central Plains, but rather a fortified stronghold. High rammed earth walls enclosed a large area of ​​land, inside which were densely packed low earthen houses and thatched cottages, interspersed with a few relatively neat courtyards with blue tiles, presumably the residences of stewards or servants.

The fields were neatly divided, but at this moment there was no one in the fields, only drying grain and a few old farm tools scattered around.

Clearly, they panicked and hid after discovering their approach.

The procession moved along the main road inside the fortified village. The doors and windows of the earthen houses on both sides were tightly closed. Occasionally, a pair of fearful and numb eyes could be glimpsed through the cracks before disappearing back into the darkness.

Qin Qinglu sat upright on his horse, his gaze, sharp as needles, beneath his black iron mask, slowly sweeping across the silent land. The Iron Scale Army knights followed closely behind, the still-wet bloodstains on their armor and the cold glint of their blades silently proclaiming the majesty of the royal palace.

The heavy clatter of hooves and the clanging of armor plates were the only rhythms in this deathly silence, striking the hearts of every hider.

Upon reaching a relatively spacious threshing ground in the center of the fortified village, there was finally some movement ahead.

A middle-aged man dressed in a silk robe and wearing a turban, accompanied by several other well-dressed but clearly nervous and uneasy people, hurried towards them.

Behind them followed a dozen or so servants wielding sticks, but these servants were all pale-faced, their eyes darting around, and their hands holding the sticks were trembling slightly, showing no imposing presence whatsoever.

The middle-aged man at the head of the household was the local chieftain. His face was full of smiles, and he bowed deeply from afar, almost bending his waist to the ground.
"This humble subject, Dao Chengsi, along with the entire village, respectfully welcomes His Highness the Prince of Annam! His presence has brought great honor to our humble abode. I have failed to greet you properly; this is a grave offense! A grave offense indeed!" His voice trembled with a deliberately raised tone, revealing extreme fear.

The chieftains of the Southern Frontier were all fluent in Mandarin, so their pronunciation was clear and accurate. However, when the crowd following behind them knelt down in unison, calling out "Long live the Prince," their voices became uneven.

Qin Qingluo reined in his horse, looking down at Dao Chengsi and the others who were prostrate on the ground, without saying a word.

A cold silence, like a tangible pressure, heavily enveloped the threshing ground. The kneeling people lowered their heads even further, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

Just then, near a straw shed where firewood was piled up at the edge of the threshing ground, an old farmer with tattered clothes and white hair seemed to be stunned by the scene. He forgot to hide and forgot to kneel down. He just stood there blankly, staring straight at this side.

"You audacious commoner! Why don't you kneel down before the Prince!" A steward-like figure behind Dao Chengsi immediately shouted sternly.

The old farmer was so frightened by the rebuke that he trembled all over and fell heavily to his knees on the muddy ground with a thud. His forehead was pressed against the cold, damp soil, and his withered body trembled like a leaf in the wind.

Qin Qingluo looked at Dao Chengsi, who was still bowing deeply, and finally spoke. Her voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears, carrying a cold, hard quality like metal and stone:

"Knife toast."

"I am here!" Dao Chengsi hurriedly replied, not daring to raise his head.

"Just now, three miles outside the manor, by the woods," Qin Qingluo said in a calm tone, as if stating a trivial matter unrelated to himself, "dozens of bandits attacked the royal carriage, but they have all been killed by my personal guards."

Dao Chengsi's body stiffened abruptly, his hand on the ground twitched, and the people behind him fell silent, holding their breath.

"This humble subject deserves to die! This humble subject deserves to die!" Dao Chengsi's voice was choked with sobs as he kowtowed even lower. "It must be...it must be bandits from the nearby mountains! Bizhuang has always been law-abiding and would never dare to harbor bandits! I have disturbed Your Majesty, and I am guilty beyond redemption! Please punish me, Your Majesty!"

Chen Yi, mounted on his horse, observed all of this with a cold eye.

Qin Qingluo seemed completely uninterested in Dao Chengsi's explanation. She didn't even press him about the origins of those "bandits," but simply continued in her icy tone:

"I have come here to verify the population and land registers of the Southern Frontier. Chief Dao, what were the population and land figures reported last year for your three villages and eighteen estates? Have there been any increases or decreases this year?"

Cold sweat instantly beaded on Dao Chengsi's forehead. He lay prostrate on the ground, his mind racing, his voice even more humble:

"Your Highness, last year we reported a population of 2,721 and 38,300 mu of cultivated land... This year... this year the weather has been favorable, and the population may have increased slightly. The land... the land has also been somewhat reclaimed. The specific... the exact figures will require careful verification of the records by the estate's accountant before we can report to Your Highness..." He answered vaguely, then added obsequiously, "Although our estate is humble, we can still accommodate Your Highness for one night, and we can present the records tomorrow..."

The King of Annam raised his voice slightly and said calmly, "Now, let's verify. I am here, awaiting your report."

The words were firm and decisive, leaving no room for negotiation. Dao Chengsi wanted to speak again, but seeing the gleaming armor, he swallowed his words. The air in the threshing ground seemed to freeze, leaving only the heavy, suppressed breathing of Dao Chengsi and the others.

Chen Yi's gaze swept over the tightly closed doors and windows, as if he could penetrate the earthen walls and see countless pairs of eyes inside, equally filled with fear and despair.

…………

The Ironscale Army rested on the spot and requisitioned houses throughout the manor. The Dao family's hall was crowded with armored soldiers, and the decorative furs were trampled into a gray-black color. Dao Chengsi ordered his servants to bring out all kinds of fine wines and delicacies, while the warhorses in the stables ate their fine feed with gusto.

Soldiers are like bandits when they pass by; this is certainly true of all.

It could even be said that they did not abduct women or kill civilians, nor did they plunder or seize property; their military discipline was extremely strict.

Having been disguised as a bodyguard for so long, Chen Yi, who was used to being free to come and go as he pleased, felt a little uncomfortable. Now, he could finally catch his breath and move around a bit.

He had noticed the trembling old farmer earlier, and after seeing the direction he left in, he thought for a moment and then headed in that direction.

It was a farmhouse built of rammed earth and covered with thatch. Chen Yi pushed open the door and walked inside.

The old farmer was stunned. Before he could recover, someone asked, "Uncle, how was the harvest this year?"

The old farmer was still in shock.

Chen Yi thought for a moment, then asked again, "So... you live alone?"

The old farmer finally realized what was happening, and shook his head blankly, stammering, "They...they weren't wearing any clothes."

Chen Yi remained silent for a moment, then asked, "How was the harvest?"

The old farmer still didn't answer. There was a rustling sound coming from deep inside the house. Chen Yi's gaze swept across the room: a crooked mud stove, a broken pot with a chipped edge, and a few empty burlap sacks piled in the corner. Other than that, there was nothing else. He softened his voice, trying not to sound too aggressive, and asked again, "Uncle, how's the harvest in the fields this year?"

The old farmer seemed to be pulled back to his senses by the third question; a hoarse sound came from his throat, like a broken bellows.

"The harvest...the harvest...thanks to God's grace, this year...is good. One mu...can yield more than one shi...of millet."

He said "okay," but there was no joy on his face, only a deeper sorrow etched in his wrinkles.

Chen Yi's heart sank slightly. In Jiangnan, a harvest of more than one shi (a unit of dry measure) was already extremely low, but in this southern border region, perhaps it was indeed considered "good," as he said, but this "good" clearly did not change anything.

"So... after paying the rent to the chieftain, is there enough left to eat?"

"Rent...rent..." The old farmer's body trembled violently, as if those two words were a red-hot branding iron. He subconsciously glanced towards the door, as if afraid of being overheard, his voice trembling with tears:

"I...I can't pay...I can't pay! Sir...I can't pay!" He almost collapsed onto the muddy ground in front of Chen Yi, his forehead hitting the ground hard with a dull thud. "Sir! Please, do me justice! The rent...it was supposed to be 50%...50%! But...but Master Dao's family...they...they took...more than 50%! More than that!"

Chen Yi frowned, looking at the humble old man buried in the mud at his feet. He just listened quietly and did not help him up.

He knew that if he helped the old man, the old man wouldn't dare to file a complaint.

"They said... they need 'marriage money'... Master Dao's young master is getting married, and every household in the village... has to give three bushels of grain as a wedding gift... If we don't... if we don't, it's disrespectful, like we've forgotten the Dao family's kindness..." The old farmer's voice was broken and choked with sobs. "Last month... the village head's mother died... and they need 'mourning money'... saying it delayed the work in the fields... and each household... was fined one and a half bushels... and... and 'transportation money'... the foreman comes to collect the rent and transport it back, it's a long and arduous journey... each household has to give him half a bushel of grain as payment for his transportation..."

He listed them off one by one, “...Spring plowing requires ‘water diversion fees,’ summer harvest requires ‘greening fees,’ and autumn grain storage requires ‘warehouse loss fees’...There are so many fees...I can’t even count them all...A mu of land yields a little over one shi of grain, but after all the deductions...what’s left in my own pocket...not even...not even three dou, sir!”

The old farmer kowtowed heavily again, his forehead covered in grayish-yellow dirt: "Three bushels of millet... enough for a family of five... to last until next spring... how can that be enough? How can that be enough! We've dug up all the wild vegetables... we've even gnawed on the tree bark... the children are crying from hunger..."

He lay on the ground, his thin, bony shoulders heaving violently, his cries echoing in the cramped mud house.

Are soldiers like bandits? No! These local chieftains who occupy a region are even more ruthless than bandits! Bandits only rob once, but these chieftains cut flesh with a dull knife, year after year, generation after generation.

Chen Yi squatted down, reached out his hand, but instead of helping the old farmer up, he pressed down on the shoulder where the farmer was still kowtowing. The shoulder was so bony and hard to hold, it felt like grasping a handful of dry firewood.

The old farmer's crying stopped abruptly, his body stiffened like iron, leaving only uncontrollable trembling.

Chen Yi looked at his face, streaked with tears and covered in dirt, and said, word by word:

"I'll take care of this for you."

...............

The manor hall was brightly lit, yet it was filled with a suffocating sense of oppression.

The cold glint of the Ironscale Army's armor reflected on the pale faces of the Dao family's servants.

Dao Chengsi stood in the center of the hall, his waist almost bent at a ninety-degree angle, holding a blue book in both hands, and carefully presented it to Qin Qingluo on the black lacquered table.

"Your Highness, please forgive us. The entire village is deeply grateful for Your Highness's boundless grace in conducting a thorough investigation of the population and land holdings. This is truly a matter of rectifying the situation and bringing blessings to our community! This is a new population and land holding list that I compiled overnight under the supervision of the accounting department, who searched through all the old files from previous years and personally went to each village and hamlet to verify the information. It is absolutely true and accurate. Please review it, Your Highness!"

Qin Qinglu sat upright in the main seat. She did not immediately turn the pages. Her fingers simply tapped lightly on the smooth tabletop, making soft tapping sounds. Each tap struck Dao Chengsi's tense nerves.

The chief clerk of the Prince's mansion, who was standing by, stepped forward, respectfully picked up the book, and quickly began to read it. For a moment, only the rustling of pages turning and Dao Chengsi's heavy, suppressed breathing filled the hall.

The registrar's brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He turned to a certain page, paused his finger on it, carefully checked it for a moment, and then quickly flipped through the pages again, his expression becoming increasingly solemn.

Finally, he closed the booklet, turned to Qin Qingluo, and reported in a clear and steady voice: "Your Highness, this booklet records a total of 2,807 people in the three villages and eighteen estates. However, after checking the old records kept by the Prince's Palace and the reports submitted by the county government in recent years, I found that the population of these three villages alone exceeded 4,000 twenty-four years ago. There are many doubts about what is recorded in this booklet."

Dao Chengsi's body trembled violently, and he hurriedly and rapidly defended himself:
"Your Highness, please understand! Your Highness, please understand! Registrar, please forgive me! This...this vacancy...it was not something I deliberately concealed! It was truly...truly a matter of natural disaster and man-made calamity, something we had no choice but to accept!"

The registrar couldn't help but say, "Twenty-four years ago, the number had already exceeded four thousand, but you only have two thousand eight hundred people in your account. Twelve hundred of them died in between. Have you done nothing but cause deaths in the past twenty-four years?"

"...In the late summer and early autumn of previous years, malaria ravaged the village, killing many able-bodied men! Then, in winter, a flash flood destroyed fields and houses, leaving dozens more displaced and their whereabouts unknown... I... I was heartbroken and wished I could take their place! This new register only records the actual people still living in the village. How could I dare to falsify the information of those who died or fled, lest I offend Your Highness? As for... after the flash flood, the terrain changed, many fields were either buried or turned into mudflats, impossible to reclaim. Some starved to death, others died of disease... I... I truthfully erased those deaths, I didn't have time to report them..."

Dao Chengsi observed the situation, and seeing that Qin Qingluo remained unmoved, cold sweat trickled down his temples.
"I was foolish, so foolish! Your Highness, of noble birth, graced our humble estate with your presence, yet I was preoccupied with official business and forgot all manners! I deserve to die! I deserve to die!" He turned to a steward behind him and shouted sternly, "What are you all standing there for! Quickly! Bring up the 'traditional offerings' prepared for Your Highness and the soldiers. This small token is a token of our respect for the Prince's residence!"

Before the words were finished, several strong servants laboriously carried in two heavy, red-lacquered chests. The chests were opened, revealing a dazzling array of jewels that brightened the hall. One chest contained neatly stacked, gleaming silver ingots, their alluring sheen shimmering in the candlelight; the other chest held various treasures: a flawless, lustrous mutton-fat jade pendant, an intricately carved rhinoceros horn cup, and several bolts of shimmering Shu brocade and Suzhou embroidery… all of considerable value.

"Your Highness," Dao Chengsi said with a fawning smile, bowing even lower, "this is just a small token of my respect. The southern border is humble and cannot compare to the prosperity of the Central Plains. These are just some local products, nothing more than a token of my gratitude. I earnestly hope that Your Highness will accept them and reward you gentlemen with a cup of wine. It would also satisfy my sincere admiration..."

The implication is nothing more than offering the village's accumulated wealth as tribute in exchange for this leniency. Similarly, the Annam kings of past dynasties often came to inspect the surrounding areas and investigate hidden households in order to receive tribute.

The King of Annam remained silent, not even glancing at Dao Chengsi. His gaze was fixed on his fingertips tapping the table, the soft, rhythmic tapping sound making the air in the entire hall seem to freeze.

Dao Chengsi's smile froze, and a chill ran from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.

He stammered, his words barely audible: "Your Highness, Your Highness, please investigate! I... I have not lied! This population... this population... perhaps some rebels have fled elsewhere... or... or perhaps they have been taken in by other chieftains... This... this investigation of the population is a major matter... it affects everything... if... if we push too hard... it alarms... alarms other factions... the seventy-two chieftains are all of one mind... what if... what if it causes unrest... creates unnecessary... waves... disturbs Your Highness... I... I would be guilty beyond redemption!"

It is no exaggeration to say that the various chieftains have united for this opportunity as a large influx of refugees into southern Xinjiang. Dao Chengsi's words were almost a desperate gamble. If the chieftains were incited to rebel, even if the Annam Prince's Palace managed to quell the unrest, it would inevitably suffer severe damage.

In Dao Chengsi's eager yet fearful eyes, the deep-seated resentment had almost solidified into a tangible form.

So much so that he didn't even notice someone approaching from outside the door and slowly walking to the side of the King of Annam.

Chen Yi walked slowly forward, then suddenly asked:
"Can I kill someone?"

The female prince glanced at him and said:
"can."

Chen Yi then raised his knife and brought it down.

Blood splattered on the wall, and the servants' pale faces froze in place. Just as they showed their fear, a heavy object fell from Dao Chengsi's neck with a thud.

The head that slid to the ground still retained its eagerness.

"Anyone who plots to assassinate a traitor shall be killed without exception."

(End of this chapter)