Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

Yellow River.

In April, the Yellow River is turbulent with rolling, muddy waves.

The ice and snow upstream have long since melted away, and the river water, carrying silt from the Loess Plateau, presents a chilling muddy yellow color.

The water crashed against the rocks on the shore, creating waves that were taller than a person and producing a dull roar.

Wang Zishun stood on the riverbank, gazing at the formidable chasm that stretched before him, his brow furrowed.

There was no bridge. There were no boats. The government troops had searched all the boats along the coast, leaving not even a decent fishing boat behind.

"Brother, there's an abandoned ferry crossing upstream," Miao Mei pointed north. "There might be a boat there."

Prince Shun led a few people and walked north along the river for more than ten miles until they found the ferry crossing.

The ferry crossing was indeed abandoned; most of the dock had collapsed, leaving only a few crooked wooden stakes stuck in the silt.

But on the shore, there were indeed several wrecked boats—dragged ashore, upside down, with many parts of the planks rotten, barely reinforced with hemp ropes and wooden wedges.

"It's a fisherman's boat." Liu Guolong squatted down to examine the extent of the rot at the bottom of the boat. "They hid it here, thinking the government troops wouldn't be able to find it. Later, probably because the people were gone, they just abandoned the boat here."

Wang Zishun remained silent.

He looked at the few wrecked boats, then at the more than a thousand people behind him.

"Repair it," he said. "Repair as much as you can."

Several brothers in the old camp who had worked as carpenters and boatmen were urgently summoned to begin repairing the wrecked boats.

If there was no decent timber, they dismantled abandoned docks; if there was no tung oil for grouting, they used rags and tree sap instead.

The clanging and banging sounds echoed along the empty riverbank.

Huan'er squatted to the side, watching the adults repair the boat.

She had never seen such a big river before.

In her world, the largest body of water is the well at the entrance of the village.

Last year the well dried up, and she has never seen a body of water larger than a washbasin since.

"Father, after we cross the river, is Shanxi?" she asked.

"Hmm." Prince Shun swung the hammer with his right hand, but his left arm was still injured and he couldn't exert much force.

"Does Shanxi have any food?"

Wang Zishun paused for a moment. "Yes."

Huan'er didn't ask any more questions. She just stared at the murky river, at the hazy, barely visible horizon on the opposite bank, her eyes filled with something indescribable. It wasn't anticipation, nor fear. It was a profound silence that shouldn't exist in an eleven-year-old child.

The boats are repaired. Three boats. Each boat can seat about twenty people, including those who row.

More than a thousand people relied on these three dilapidated boats to cross the river, making more than twenty round trips.

Moreover, government troops could catch up at any time.

"The elderly, the weak, women, and children go first," Prince Shun ordered. "Those who can fight, stay here and wait until the end."

No one objected. This was the rule in chaotic times—if anyone had to die, it was the man in charge who died first.

The first group to cross the river were wounded soldiers, the elderly, and women with children.

Huan'er was pushed onto the boat by Prince Shun.

"Father!" She grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let go.

"Be good." Wang Zishun pried open her fingers, one by one, slowly and forcefully. "When we get to the other side, follow your uncle. Dad will be there soon."

Huan'er's tears finally fell.

All along the way, she saw so many dead people, saw her father injured, and saw the uncles and elders of the old camp fall one by one, but she didn't cry. But at this moment, when her father pried her hands open, she cried.

"Father, you must come," she cried.

Wang Zishun nodded, and the boat left the shore, creaking and groaning as it sailed into the murky river.

Wang Zishun stood on the shore, watching the boat grow smaller and smaller as it went further and further away.

Huan'er stood at the stern, watching him.

Her figure appeared so small on the wide river, as small as a fallen leaf that could be blown away at any moment.

The boat docked on the opposite bank. Huan'er got off the boat, stood on the riverbank, and turned around to look this way.

Wang Zishun raised his right hand and waved it.

Huan'er also raised her hand and waved.

Then, the boat rowed back.

Trip after trip.

The elderly, weak, women, and children have passed away.

The wounded soldier has gone over.

The food and supplies have passed.

By dusk, only Prince Shun and his hundred-odd capable brothers remained on this side of the river.

"The last batch," Wang Zishun said. "Get on the ship."

Just then, the light of torches appeared on the eastern ridge.

Not just one or two, but a whole patch.

Like a winding fire dragon, it is moving rapidly towards the riverbank.

The government troops caught up.

"Quick! Get on the boat!" Prince Shun roared hoarsely.

More than a hundred brothers rushed toward the three wrecked boats. The boats were too small to hold everyone at once.

"Liu Guolong! You take your men and go first!" Wang Zishun ordered.

"Big brother, you go first!" Liu Guolong said, his eyes red.

"This is a military order!"

Liu Guolong gritted his teeth and led twenty or thirty brothers onto the first boat.

The prince and the rest of the men stayed on the shore.

The torches drew closer, and the sounds of horses' hooves and dogs' barking could already be heard.

The government troops were accompanied by dogs.

"Brother, the ship is back!" someone shouted.

The first boat unloaded its passengers and then rowed back.

Prince Shun let the next group of people board the ship. The ship then left the shore again.

On the shore, only Wang Zishun and his last dozen or so old brothers remained.

The torches were almost within reach.

The government troops' cavalry are about to reach the riverbank.

The torchlight illuminated the cold gleam of their armor.

"Wang Zishun! You can't escape now!" General Zhou's roar came from the darkness. "Put down your knife, and I'll spare your life!"

Wang Zishun did not speak. He drew his sword.

A dozen or so old brothers also drew their swords. No one spoke. Only the roar of the Yellow River and the ever-approaching sound of horses' hooves could be heard.

The boat, full of people, had traveled halfway when it returned.

"Brother! Hurry!" the brothers on the boat shouted hoarsely.

Wang Zishun did not move.

He looked at the dozen or so old brothers around him—he recognized every single one of their faces. Zhang Meng, Li Biao, Wang Zhen, Zhao Jia… they had followed him since the uprising in Yansui, risking their lives together without ever backing down.

"You, get on the ship," he said.

"Big brother!"

"This is a military order."

No one moved.

A dozen or so people, like a dozen nails, were driven into the riverbank.

Zhang Meng suddenly laughed. He was a veteran border soldier in his forties, with many wrinkles on his face and a deep, muffled voice.

"Brother, I've been following you since Yansui. You told me to get on the ship, so I did. But when we get there, if Huan'er asks me, 'Uncle Zhang, where's my father?' what am I supposed to say?"

Wang Zishun's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Brother, stop talking nonsense." Li Biao laughed too. He was younger, not yet thirty, but he was also a veteran of many battles. "The boat is only so big, and you know better than us how many people it can carry. It's waiting for you, not us. If we stay, risk our lives here, and nail the corrupt officials here, then your boat can move and go far. No matter how you look at it, it's worth it."

The government cavalry had already closed to within a hundred paces.

Wang Zishun closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"Walk!"

A dozen or so men, facing the government army's cavalry, launched a final charge.

Wang Zishun gritted his teeth, jumped onto the boat, and the boatman struggled to push off.

The turbid waves pounded against the gunwale, and cold tears slid down my face.

Behind me, I heard the sounds of clashing weapons, screams, roars, and the neighing of horses.

He didn't turn around. He didn't dare to turn around.

When the boat reached the middle of the river, a wave crashed in, causing the boat to rock violently.

Wang Zishun gripped the gunwale tightly, his fingernails digging into the rotten wood.

Behind me, the sounds from the shore gradually faded away.

Then, nothing could be heard. Only the roar of the Yellow River, its endless roar.

The boat docked. Wang Zishun jumped off the boat and stood on the riverbank.

Miao Mei came forward. "Big brother! Huan'er is here, she's safe."

Wang Zishun did not respond. He turned around and looked at the opposite bank.

The torches were still burning. But the shouts of battle had ceased.

How long could a dozen men hold out against thousands of government troops? He didn't know. But he did know that Zhang Meng, Li Biao, Wang Zhen, Zhao Jia... they would never make it back.

He stood on the riverbank, gazing at the opposite bank for a very long time.

The Yellow River flows through the night, its roar unchanging through the ages.

Huan'er ran out of the crowd and ran to Wang Zishun's side.

She didn't speak, but simply reached out and grasped Wang Zishun's rough, scab-covered right hand.

Wang Zishun lowered his head and looked at his daughter.

Then, he knelt down and hugged her in his arms.

His shoulders were trembling. But no sound came out.

Miao Mei gazed at the torches on the opposite bank, remaining silent for a long time. Then, he murmured something.

"They are all great."

No one answered. Only the roar of the Yellow River echoed endlessly in the night.