by Jeremy Han
“He heard rumours you need men for a job. He threatened us. He said we would be the first you would approach and we better inform him when you do, or else.”
“One man threatening your dang, and your master let him walk out alive?” Yang sneered. “What kind of gangsters are you?”
“The Eastern Depot is made up of demons. You’ll know when you meet them,” the smelly vagrant retorted.
Yang had indeed heard of them. His master had frequently spoke about the dreaded imperial secret service, the shadow organisation that existed outside the law and reported to the emperor directly. They dealt with the emperor’s worst enemies, but these local crime lords were mere hometown bullies, not worth their attention at all. The secret agent was after bigger fish.
The manslayer quickly ran through his options. He was not afraid of the emperor’s hounds, but it was too premature to fight them. He knew that some day they would be engaged in this game of cat and mouse against him, but not yet. If the secret service was on to him here, he could not recruit the help he needed from the dangs. He needed to secure his manpower from somewhere else, from men who lived at the fringes, not within the well-organised criminal fraternity. He should have thought of this; lawmen often had ties with the underworld as they lived out a precarious balance. Organised crime existed only because of a certain level of tolerance from the authorities, and gangs such as these usually had some kind of leverage over the law enforcers to keep them away. It could be bribes or some form of mutual understanding.
Treason however, was another matter entirely, and nobody negotiated with the Eastern Depot. These criminals had already worked out a way to co-exist with the law enforcers, thus they would not do what he asked. They were not desperate enough, and they had too much to lose.
What I need are men who have nothing to lose.
“Can I go now?” the beggar asked.
“Sure.” Yang struck him at the back of his head, and the man went limp. He did not want the beggar to see him leave and he lowered the man to the ground before he placed a silver coin in his hand.
“For your efforts.”
Yang retreated to his hiding place and thought through his orders again. He was the ‘Crown Prince from Hell’ - the avenger who had struck fear in the heart of the court as he attempted to regain his lost throne. But how was the man to start a rebellion without men following under him? To date he had been using his wits to create an image of a monstrous prince that was larger than life, like the time he slaughtered the magistrate and his men after leading them into the forest, but for a ‘rebellion’ he would need troops. Kong had sent instructions to raise the game, to launch a full-scale attack on a very important target coming from the Forbidden City, and the eunuch had sent gold to buy mercenaries for that purpose. After his visit to the dangs though, he realised he had been looking in the wrong place.
Excitement filled him as he remembered reading the orders from his master. He had felt trusted to be given such a task. He was going to be more than just an assassin. The eunuch had recognised his abilities to lead, to strategise and now Yang was going to command, but he needed desperate men, brigands who wanted something more than just gold if they were to go the extra mile with him.
He thought for a while, and then he smiled. He had heard rumours of a Mongol band who pillaged the countryside, men from a bygone era, forgotten and forsaken by their own. They were expendable, and had nothing to lose. They could be bought.
Wolves. Wolves in human form.
Perfect.
He set out to establish contact.
24
Yang took a deep breath as he studied the familiar surroundings. After receiving his orders, and after thinking through the problem of recruiting men from the dangs he had come to this abandoned hamlet to find what he required. The place looked similar to the poor village he had grown up in. He had vague memories of that place, and all he could visualise anymore were the old people who had cared for him. They had liked him because his presence had, for some reason, brought much needed food and money and somehow, somebody made it a point to keep him alive. He could not remember the physical details of the village, but somehow the familiarity of desolation struck him. All had been before he was recruited by Kong, when his life started to take on a more deadly purpose.
So long ago.
He walked through the main road in the dark and he felt at home. Old, disused houses lay on both sides of the road as darkened, wind-struck and broken lanterns swayed silently like men on gallows. Several of the farm houses had caved in due to years of disuse, their roofs opened as though a giant had ripped it off to pluck the inhabitants one by one out of their safety. A well drew his attention and a blurred image flashed across his mind. The picture was blurred but it was not the image that mattered, it was the sentiment he felt from it.
He remembered seeking the children at the well to play, but they had all run away. He was a newcomer to the village, that he had come at night with his mother seeking refuge, and people who came to secluded villages at night were up to no good. The pang in his heart reminded him of a child who wanted the company of other children because his mother could not play with him. Back then he did not understand that his mother was dying. and all he had know was that he did not really fit in. It was as though a hidden part of him belonged to a universe that was far removed from the squalor of an isolated farming community. He knew, just as the other children knew, that he did not belong.
The most vivid memory he had of that part of his life was his mother’s death. He recalled holding her hand as she coughed one last agonising fit. He had cleaned away the blood from her mouth with an old, dirty cloth and she looked at him one last time and smiled tenderly like all mothers do to their children. It was the last time that he had felt any warmth in his heart.
He vaguely remembered that he had a father, although everyone hushed when it came to that topic. The memory was more a feeling than an image, like looking at an object placed under deep water. He knew it was there, but he couldn’t quite see it. Whenever he tried to remember all he could picture was a man running away with fire burning all around him, but the man’s back was facing him, and he could not remember his face.
After his mother’s demise he had been taken away to a place where the eunuch who cared for him, and who had now become his master, talked to him gently before having him castrated. It is for your own survival, he had said, but Yang never understood. All he knew was after that searing incident he had been taught to hate the royal house of the Ming – the House of Zhu. He was then given the name Yang, the powerful light of the universe, opposite of Yin. Just one word.
They want your life, boy. I am only trying to save you, and give you a chance to take revenge.
Did they kill my mother?
Yes.
“And my father?”
You have no father. Just your mother. Remember who your enemies are. Never forget that. Avenge her, and avenge your mutilation. By striking at the Ming court, you will find purpose. It is your destiny. Someday, you will know why you went through so much. You will look back, and realise that you are stronger than fate.
The words flew like bats coming out of the dark cave of his past as he entered the house where the meeting was supposed to take place. The door was already broken down and he stepped in without any problems. The broken windows allowed ample moonlight in to illuminate the room, and as he looked around he saw that there was no one waiting to ambush him. A disused table sat a corner and there were faded talismans pasted on the wall that obviously had not brought the occupants any good luck. He walked over to the staircase leading to the second floor and ascended. He did not bother to mask his steps and the thump of his feet announced that he had arrived.
He saw light seeping out of the room, and As he stepped in he raised both hands to show that he was unarmed. A table was set for the meeting and two men sat around it. They had heavy swords and remained seated as he entered. The man on the left was bald except for a
top knot. The other was just as heavily built but he had long, unkempt hair. They glared at him as he approached the table.
“Right on time,” the bald one said gruffly. Yang studied his features and concluded he was a Mongol, a fugitive turned bandit. After the Mongols had been thrown out of the Middle Kingdom and the Ming was established any Mongols who remained were hunted like dogs. Either they left the empire or they went underground, earning them a living as pariahs.
Good.
They studied the killer intensely, wondering if they should just slit his throat and take whatever they could. But his immense build, his broad jaw, and piercing eyes told them this was not a man to mess with, and anyone who came to a meeting with the leaders of the most bloodthirsty band of mercenaries in this region without a weapon had to be supremely confident in his skills.
“Make your proposal,” the hairy one rasped in a low, strained voice.
“I need men, and I was told yours were the best, the most violent available that money could buy.”
The bald one sniffed as though he could not care less. “How many?”
“Fifty or so,” Yang added like a seasoned businessman. “Good ones. Not those that you use as fodder for enemy archers.”
A grin broke out on the face of the bald one, revealing a row of rotting teeth that looked more like tombstones. Yang was glad he was too far away to smell the undoubtedly fetid breath.
“Whatever for?” the one with the long hair asked in his ragged way of speaking.
“To do an honest day’s work of banditry,” Yang replied with a smile.
The two men laughed, and the bald one jerked a thumb at him, saying, “Funny man here.” His friend leaned forward.
“What kind of banditry?” he asked.
“The kind that involves some risk, but a lot of reward.”
“Really? Tell us about it.”
“A noble family is coming to this region to escape the cold in the north. I am planning to attack them.”
“Nobles? They have guards,” the shaggy haired an replied, his eyes narrowing.
“Of course they have soldiers,” Yang replied, as though he was explaining the obvious to a child. “That’s why I need men, Good men,” he emphasised.
The bald man nodded. It was not difficult. They had robbed all sorts before, and some of their men died while others prospered. There was nothing new there, and at the end it was all about profit and loss. “How much?” he asked.
Yang threw a small bag at them, and it clinked when it landed on their table. The shaggy haired man opened it and whistled. “Jin ‘gold’.” But this was not good enough, they could get rich elsewhere with easier targets such as merchants. Although, it was also true that regular merchants did not carry as much wealth as a noble would, but wealth aside, they needed a stronger reason to risk attacking a noble.
“Here is the good news.”
“What?” the bald man asked, eyes widening.
“Your men can take all the gold. I don’t care about that.”
“WHAT?” both men exclaimed simultaneously, their jaws dropping at the proposed generosity.
“I only want revenge,” Yang explained further. “And I believe”, he pointed at them, settling on whom he rightly figured out to be a Mongol, “you’ll want to deliver it to some Ming pariah too.”
“Why’s that?” the bald man asked, frowning.
Still standing, and with one smooth motion, Yang undid the cloth knot that held his pants up. It fell to the floor, and the two men gasped at the horror they witnessed. Yang looked at them emotionlessly as the man with the shaggy hair started to point.
“Yes. I was made a eunuch,” Yang stated simply. He did not need to explain further how his penis and testicles had been removed, or how all that remained was a messy, red scar surrounding a crudely shaped hole and Yang’s glare looked like it could start a fire. “And I want to punish those who did this to me.”
Slowly, the two men started to laugh, but it was without mirth. Yes, this was better than they thought. They loved gold because it kept them alive, but revenge was what they had dreamt off. Vengeance for being treated worst than animals and Now, because of this man, they could have both.
“So a renegade eunuch plots revenge against those who enslaved him huh?”
“Those who failed to enslave him,” yYang asserted. “Are you in or not?”
“Tell us what to do.”
Yang grinned as he repeated the instructions from Kong, and soon the two men’s laughter had been replaced with frowns. This sounded dangerous, and the man with the shaggy hair spoke tersely, his grey eyes narrowing like a wolf’s. “How do we know that this is not a trap?”
Yang had anticipated this. Lifting up his five fingers he said, “Meet me here in five day’s time and I will bring you a gift. A token of goodwill.”
25
Autocratic governments thrive on competition and disunity among their officials and the Ming court was no different. The fear of government officers colluding or military commanders conspiring was deeply entrenched, so the monarchs introduced a third element into the system of governance: the eunuchs. Grand eunuchs held as much power as a government minister or a general. Sometimes powerful castrates held dual appointments such as military and civilian. This had led to systemic rivalry between the three institutions – the civil service, the military and the eunuchs. The eunuchs were personally appointed by emperors and thus were not accountable to the official hierarchy of the government. This grated on the nerves of the civil servants, who had always seen themselves as superior to the eunuchs who were nothing more than bought slaves. Yet some of these slaves became outstanding officers, and the grand commandant of Nanjing was no different.
Liu Ning held the extremely powerful positions of grand commandant of the auxiliary capital, as well as the position of the director of ceremonies. The grand commandant had overall authority over the city that controlled the canals linking northern Ming with the south. He presided over the governor and the various nobles who administered the southern capital, and as the director of ceremony he also controlled all correspondences between the court and the government organs, as well as to plan the annual ceremonies and rituals that ensured the cosmic balance of the empire. However, when he was here in the south where he played his main duty of senior administrator he carried his duty out to the extreme. Liu had been an exceptional officer, known for his diligence and courage as well as his sense of duty. Once upon a time he had been a Jinyi Wei, but he had saved the previous emperor and the grateful ruler had elevated him to high position.
The lanky, austere eunuch had a pinched look as he stared at the letter in his hand. It was a letter from the governor of the city, whom he was currently investigating, but it did not make sense. A month ago the grand commandant had discovered irregularities in the city’s salt accounts – a serious offence. Salt was an imperial asset, and only the state was allowed to trade in it. The governor, who oversaw the movement of salt, had been accused of smuggling it. Of course he had denied fault, which was technically true because like all officials across the world, it was their families who benefited, and where the official himself may be pure, everyone else in his family was dirty.
Liu Ning had summoned the man and asked for an account, which he vehemently denied. Liu recalled the nasty names the governor had levelled at him – insults that would have resulted in severe punishment if not for the governor’s rank. He had even insulted Liu by calling him a ‘half-man’, the usual slur for the castrates. It revealed the deep animosity and resentment the bureaucratic class had for the eunuchs, whom they perceived as social inferiors.
He frowned as he read over the message again, his sparse eyebrows curling downward, adding lines to his strict countenance and wondering, At night? What does he want to meet me for?
Liu studied the row of neat words. It had come from a learned hand, and the private seal of the governor was affixed, a testament to the authenticity of the personal correspondence th
at requested a meeting with honeyed courtesy too sweet to be sincere for a man writing to his accuser. The grand eunuch looked out of the window. Outside it was growing dark. Turning to his attendant he said softly, “Prepare dinner then get my carriage.”
The servant bowed and went off to fulfil his master’s wish as a thousand thoughts ran through his head.
He has been denying the charges I made. Why wouldn’t he? Salt theft is punishable by death.
He poured himself a cup of tea and drank, a mechanical motion as his mind tried to solve the question of why the governor wanted to meet him at such a secluded place.
Does he want to confess and cut a deal? Or is he planning vengeance against me? A pre-emptive strike?
Liu was a former imperial bodyguard , and the thought of violence was not alien to him. He concluded that it was no use speculating as anger rose in him. Damn these parasitic officials! They think they can get away with anything. I will see what cunning tricks he has up his sleeves. His knuckles cracked loudly like popping chestnuts as his fist tightened.
Two hours later, the governor of Nanjing sat alone in the dark at the pavilion where the grand commandant had asked him to wait, shivering despite the black fur coat draped over him. His personal bodyguards were nearby, but not near enough to overhear any conversation. The pavilion overlooked the row of willows lining the lake, their long, flowing leaves dancing in the evening wind while insects sang their nocturnal anthem. The governor rubbed his arms to ward off the autumn chill. He was tense, he did not know what to expect from the grand commandant’s strange request to meet at this secluded spot but he believed it had to do with the eunuch’s charge of corruption.
But what does he want? he mused. A bribe! That must be it. If not he wouldn’t request a private meeting. He cursed the eunuch. What a despicable, self-righteous piece of shit! What does a half-man need so much money for? He doesn’t even have descendants to care for!
He hawked his phlegm and spat with disgust. He rose and paced over the ground as he thought of what to say into the face of the taijian. He was the governor after all, and he would not be intimidated by a highly decorated slave. He was so caught up with his anger that he did not realise that around him the crickets had gone silent.