Han Ji

Chapter 158 Sparks in Mianzhu (Part 2)

Ma Xiang turned his head and stared at him: "You've taken the money and the weapons, and now you're saying you're not doing it anymore?"

Wu Si chuckled awkwardly, "No... I'm afraid, what if..."

"9

"No 'what ifs'," Ma Xiang interrupted him, carefully tucking the gold ingot into his pocket. "Pass the word down that the brothers shouldn't go home for the next two days; they should gather at the temple. On the fifteenth of the first lunar month, we're going to pull off something big!"

He turned and went into the temple, his footsteps splashing black water as he stepped into the muddy ground.

In the hearth, the slag crackled as it burned, and smoke billowed up to the roof and escaped through the hole.

A muffled rumble of thunder came from afar.

It is going to rain.

The fifteenth day of the first lunar month.

Lanterns, made of paper and painted in red, yellow, blue, and green, hung in the city of Mianzhu, swaying in the evening breeze. A notice was posted at the yamen gate, announcing that the curfew was lifted tonight and that people were allowed to watch the lanterns, but gatherings and noise were prohibited. The notice was signed by the bright red seal of County Magistrate Li Sheng.

Li Sheng is currently drinking in the warm pavilion in the back office.

The charcoal brazier burned brightly, making the attic warm and cozy. On the table were four dishes: stewed mutton, steamed cured fish, stir-fried cabbage, and pickled dried ferns, along with a pot of warmed rice wine. Sitting opposite him were County Magistrate Zhao Pu and Registrar Sun Li, both smiling and offering toasts.

"My lord," Zhao Pu raised his cup, "the city has been relatively peaceful this year."

Li Sheng, in his fifties, was stout with droopy eyelids and a flushed face from drinking. He grunted and took a sip of wine: "It's good that things are peaceful. Magistrate Xi wrote the other day, asking about the salt tax in Mianzhu... Have you settled your accounts?"

"Clean, clean," Sun Li hurriedly said. "The taxes due have all been paid. As for the extra... according to the old custom, thirty percent will be sent to the Prefect's residence, twenty percent will be distributed to the officials in the prefecture, and the rest..."

""

He didn't finish speaking, but Li Sheng understood.

The rest they divided up.

Li Sheng nodded in satisfaction, picked up a piece of fatty mutton, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed it until his face was glistening with oil.

"Are things still escalating with the salt workers..." Zhao Pu asked cautiously, "Are they causing trouble lately?"

"What a load of crap." Li Sheng scoffed. "A bunch of poor salt workers, they can't cause any trouble. Didn't they say they were going to file a complaint a while ago? I had Foreman Wang and his men talk them out, and now they're quiet."

Wang Bantou was the head constable of the county government, with about twenty constables under his command, specializing in dealing with troublesome people.

Sun Li apologized and said, "Your Excellency, you are wise."

The three of them clinked glasses again.

A faint commotion could be heard outside, the sounds of people gathering in the street to watch the lanterns, and children's laughter, all mixed together in the distance.

Li Sheng felt reassured as he listened.

In Mianzhu, he's still the one who calls the shots.

The atmosphere was completely different in the dilapidated temple south of the city.

The temple was packed with people, not just two hundred, but more than three hundred. They were all strong young men, dressed as salt workers, in tattered clothes, but with bright eyes, and holding tools in their hands: some had knives, some had sharpened bamboo spears, and some had shovels and salt forks.

The fire in the hearth burned brighter than ever before, flames leaping high and illuminating the excited yet tense faces.

Ma Xiang stood before the half-mud statue, wearing an old leather armor he'd found somewhere, with the ring-pommel sword at his waist. Wu Si stood beside him, holding a wooden tray with the yellow flag on it. It was sewn from old clothes by a woman; the yellow cloth was washed until it was white, the stitches were rough, and in the center was a crooked character for "sky" drawn with soot.

"Brothers!" Ma Xiang spoke, his voice cutting through the crackling of the fire, "Tonight, we'll do something big!"

The crowd fell silent, hundreds of eyes fixed on him.

"That old dog Xi Jian, with his increased taxes and rents, has driven so many people to their deaths! My brother died from exhaustion in the salt well; when his body was brought up, he was nothing but skin and bones! And you? Have your parents, wives, and children been driven to their deaths? Have any of them starved to death?"

A low growl rose from the crowd.

"have!"

"My mother died of illness; we didn't have money for medicine!"

My daughter... froze to death last winter...

The sounds grew more numerous and louder, like muffled thunder rolling by.

When Ma Xiang raised his hand, everyone fell silent again.

"This revenge must be taken!" he roared. "But revenge alone isn't enough! We need to change our way of life! After this is done, we'll all have a good life! Land to cultivate, food to eat, and clothes to wear!"

He waved his hand, and two men behind him carried over a wooden box, which they smashed in the middle, scattering the gold coins everywhere.

"See that? It's money! A million! With money, a knife, and men, what are we afraid of?!"

The firelight illuminated the gold cakes, and the gold cakes stirred the crowd.

"Dry!"

"Follow Master Ma!"

"Kill Xi Jian!"

Ma Xiang grabbed the yellow flag and waved it forcefully.

"Walk!"

More than 300 people poured out of the dilapidated temple.

It was completely dark, with no moon and only the faint glow of lanterns in the distance. The group split into three teams: one, led by Ma Xiang himself, headed straight for the county government office. Another team, led by Wu Si, went to rob the warehouse. The third team consisted of young salt workers, tasked with stirring up trouble and creating chaos in the streets.

Footsteps echoed on the muddy street, jumbled and heavy.

In the back office of the county government, Li Sheng, half-drunk, was embracing and flirting with a maid.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside, followed by banging on the door.

"My lord! My lord! Something terrible has happened!"

It was Wang Bantou's voice, tinged with panic.

Li Sheng frowned and pushed the maid aside: "What's all the commotion about?"

The door was flung open, and Foreman Wang rushed in, his face deathly pale: "Sir! Salt worker Ma Xiang... has rebelled! He's brought several hundred men and is heading towards the county government!"

Li Sheng was half sober.

"Rebellion?" he glared. "He wouldn't dare?!"

"They've really rebelled! They have knives and are waving yellow flags!" Chief Wang shouted urgently. "Brothers, we can't hold them off! Retreat!"

Li Sheng was stunned.

He instinctively looked out the window, where he could faintly hear shouts of battle, growing louder and louder.

"My lord!" Sun Li panicked as well. "Go through the back door! Go to the county town to report the news!"

Li Sheng then realized what was happening, stumbled to his feet, and ran outside barefoot without even putting on his shoes. Zhao Pu and Sun Li followed, with Wang Bantou protecting him.

Just as we reached the back door, it was kicked open.

A dozen or so salt workers rushed in, brandishing bamboo spears and shovels, and started hitting anyone they saw. Foreman Wang drew his knife and blocked two blows, but was hit on the shoulder by a shovel and fell to the ground with a scream.

Li Sheng's legs went weak, and he collapsed on the threshold.

A salt worker recognized him and shouted, "This corrupt official is here!"

A bamboo spear was thrust at it.

Li Sheng watched helplessly as the spear tip pierced his stomach, cold and then excruciatingly painful. He opened his mouth to scream, but blood gushed out, choking him.

The last thing I saw was that yellow flag with the character "天" (heaven) on it, swaying in the firelight.

Things went even better at the warehouse.

The warehouse was guarded by four old soldiers who were gambling inside. When Wu Si led his men in, they thought thieves had come and were about to draw their swords when they were tackled to the ground.

"Hero, spare my life! Spare my life!"

Wu Si didn't kill them, he just tied them up and gagged them.

The warehouse was opened, revealing piles of grain—last autumn's tax grain, still to be transported. Wu Si ordered his men to move it out, shouting as they did so, "Open the warehouse and distribute the grain! Everyone gets a share!"

The people on the street, who had been hiding in their homes, heard the shouts and peeked through a crack in their doors. When they saw that someone was indeed carrying sacks of grain out, the bolder ones went over to investigate.

"Really...really giving it to me?"

"Here you go!" A salt worker shoved half a sack of corn into his arms. "Take this back! Eat your fill, then work with us!"

The man, holding the grain sack, paused for a moment, then turned and ran—not to go home, but to call his neighbors.