Chapter Nine: Blood Rain Amid the Bloody Wind (Part One)

The large courtyard was indeed brightly lit.

He Quan had ordered all the liquor stored in the warehouse to be brought out. The tables were piled high with cured meats, steamed cakes, fresh fish, and even two plates of candied fruits—luxuries that commoners could not afford even during the Lunar New Year.

He Quan personally poured wine for Yinsuke. His plump hand trembled, causing the liquor to spill across the table. He scrambled to wipe it away with his sleeve, only to be kicked aside by the other man.

"Tell me, is your Emperor Zhao Ji a man of no faith? Daring to harbor Zhang Jue—this is an act of defiance against our Great Jin Empire!" Yinsuke held his wine cup, looking at him with an inscrutable, mocking expression.

He Quan paused, then suddenly slapped his thigh, the flesh on his face quivering: "Not just faithless, he is a muddled ruler! A completely muddled ruler!"

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice but speaking loudly enough for everyone around to hear: "That Zhao Ji spends his days doing nothing but painting and writing, building that Genyue garden, and scouring the world for strange rocks, leaving the people destitute and their families shattered! I have long been unable to stomach him!"

The assistant magistrate nearby quickly chimed in: "The official is right! Those wretches like Tong Guan and Cai Jing are nothing but scourges to the nation! Serving as officials in the Great Song is like walking on thin ice; we have long been praying for the heavenly troops of the Great Jin to come and liberate the people!"

"Exactly, exactly!"

The registrar stuffed his small notebook into his robes and joined in, shouting, "The Jin campaign against the Song is an act of justice on behalf of Heaven! Our surrender is the fulfillment of the Confucian virtues of benevolence and righteousness—preserving the people is benevolence, submitting to the mandate of Heaven is righteousness, welcoming the royal army is propriety, knowing the times is wisdom, and never betraying our allegiance is faith!"

These words sent the Jurchen generals into peals of laughter.

Yinsuke drained his cup, grabbed He Quan by the collar, and hauled him to his face: "You certainly have a way with words. I, the Commander, will guarantee your position as Prefect of Xinzhou. If you do well, you shall be promoted in the future."

He Quan was overjoyed. He fell to his knees with a thud, knocking his head against the ground repeatedly: "Thank you, Commander, for your patronage! Thank you, Commander! This subordinate will surely serve the Great Jin with the loyalty of a dog and horse, and govern Xinzhou with the utmost care!"

As the banquet stretched into the small hours, He Quan summoned several courtesans, all of them famous entertainers in Xinzhou. The women, dressed in thin silk, shivered in the cold as they played and sang with forced smiles.

A Meng'an (a Jurchen military commander) pulled a courtesan into his arms and reached for her sash. Seeing this, He Quan chuckled: "General, enjoy yourself! Enjoy! These are merely modest gifts from a small place; once the army reaches Taiyuan, there will surely be better!"

Outside the window, Jin soldiers had begun to run wild in the streets. Some kicked open doors to seize grain, while others dragged women into alleys to abuse them, later parading them through the streets in a show of arrogance. Cries, screams, and raucous laughter blended together like a dull saw grinding against the nerves of all who heard it.

He Quan’s attendant rushed in and whispered a few words into his ear. He Quan’s expression shifted slightly, but he immediately piled on a smile and said to Yinsuke: "Commander, there are a few unruly peasants in the west of the city who thought to escape. I have already had them apprehended. What do you think..."

"Kill them." Yinsuke was gnawing on a pig trotter and didn't even look up. "Hang them on the city wall for those who disobey to see."

"Yes, yes, of course!" He Quan responded quickly. As he turned away, the smile vanished from his face, and he hissed at his attendant: "Be swift and clean! Don't dirty the eyes of the royal army!"

Near dawn, He Quan saw Yinsuke out of the courtyard. He saw several corpses of commoners lying in the street, frozen stiff in the biting cold of the twelfth lunar month. He Quan frowned and said to the bailiffs behind him: "Clear this away quickly. Don't let the Commander be annoyed by the sight."

Yinsuke stopped and pointed at the newly hung heads on the city wall: "Who are those?"

He Quan followed his gaze and hurriedly explained: "They were some ignorant, unruly peasants who spoke of resisting the royal army. My men took them down..."

The north wind whipped snow foam across the city wall, causing the severed heads to sway. He Quan shivered and tightened his cotton robe.

Yinsuke burst into loud laughter, the sound so powerful that the snow on the rafters shook and fell. He slapped He Quan on the shoulder with such force that the man stumbled, yet he dared not utter a sound.

"Good! A fine He Quan!" Yinsuke said in broken Chinese, spraying spit all over He Quan's face. "I, the Commander, think you are quite good! You and your lot are very useful; from now on, you are the most loyal subjects of our Great Jin, a hundred times better than those trash!"

"Commander, these Southern 'soft sheep' are too funny, hahahaha!"

Wanyan Xigunai, a Mouke (a Jurchen military rank), grabbed He Quan by his topknot and shouted, his Jurchen-accented voice spraying his face: "Listen here, you Southern barbarian! We’ve fought all the way from the Huntong River to this day, and I’ve never seen a lamb as sensible as you! Follow us from now on, and we’ll take you to Bianjing to teach that bird-emperor a lesson."

The assistant magistrate, the judge, and the registrars nearby beamed at these words, as if they had received a great honor.

Assistant Magistrate Luo scrambled forward, wiping away non-existent dust from his sleeves, and kowtowed three times: "It is the great fortune of our three lives to serve the Great Jin! We are willing to hold the bridle and stirrups for you, Commander, and would gladly die for your cause!"

"Exactly, exactly!" The registrar pulled out his small notebook and began recording again, "We are born subjects of the Great Jin, and in death, we shall be its ghosts!"

Yinsuke was even more amused by this group of Song officials. He turned and shouted something in Jurchen. A sturdy young man entered, clad in Jurchen armor with a jade-inlaid scimitar at his waist. It was his nineteen-year-old son, Wanyan Gouying, just returned from the Liaodong battlefield. His face still held a hint of childishness, but his eyes were as fierce as a wolf's.

"Gouying," Yinsuke ordered in Jurchen, "take fifty cavalrymen to watch over these Southerners. Make them move all the grain in the city to Shiling Pass. Tell them: for every grain of rice missing, a head will be chopped off to be kicked like a ball!"

Gouying struck his chest and said: "Father, rest assured. Not a single grain shall be missing!" He then relayed the order to He Quan and the others in Chinese.

Seeing a chance to distinguish himself, He Quan jumped in: "Commander, rest assured! Transporting grain is my duty, and I shall not shirk it! Assistant Magistrate Luo, you and I shall each lead a team of bailiffs to personally supervise the transport from the granaries!"

Assistant Magistrate Luo agreed without hesitation. The group of civil officials crowded around Wanyan Gouying as they headed out, showering him with constant flattery.

Yinsuke watched their backs and sneered to his deputy: "These Southerners wag their tails better than the Khitan dogs."

The deputy laughed in Jurchen: "If they wag well, keep them; if they wag poorly, kill them and feed them to the wolves."

Within an hour, the streets of Xiurong County were in total chaos. The Jin soldiers organized the bailiffs into groups, using staves to smash doors and seize grain from every house.

An old woman clutched her rice jar, crying: "This is the winter grain for our family of three! I beg you, officials, leave us something to eat..."

The head bailiff kicked the jar over, scattering the rice mixed with ice across the floor: "What are you squawking about! This is military provisions for the Great Jin heavenly troops. If you delay the schedule, I’ll take your whole family’s heads!"

The Jin soldiers stood by with folded arms, sneering. The Jurchen Punian (a commander of fifty) pointed his whip at the old woman: "Southerners are just base; once they see a little blood, they become obedient." With that, he lashed the old woman across the back, causing her to curl up like a shrimp. After several more lashes, she was half-dead on the spot.

He Quan stood at the entrance of the granary, watching the laborers load grain bags onto carts. Wanyan Gouying rode up with his cavalry, pointing at the ledger: "The grain registered here is thirty percent less than the actual amount. Is someone hiding it?"

He Quan’s face turned white, and he hurriedly stammered: "Young General, please observe! It... it was the drought last year, the accounts weren't updated! I will have my men make up the difference immediately!" He turned to his attendant and roared, "Go to my back courtyard and move all the grain from the cellar!"

As soon as Wanyan Gouying left, cries and curses were heard from the alley: "He Quan, you traitor! You give all the grain to the Jin dogs—you’re driving us to our deaths! Even as a ghost, I won’t let you go!"

He Quan's face turned livid. He told the bailiffs: "Drag that unruly wretch out, beat him to death, and feed him to the dogs! A lowly life, that's all."

For the next three days, Xiurong County became a living hell. The Jin soldiers and bailiffs scavenged like mad dogs, scraping even the offerings from the Guanyin temple clean. One family hid grain in a coffin; when it was discovered, the soldiers dragged them out and beat them to death in the snow, forcing the family to watch as their grain was hauled away.

"These Southerners are like worms in the dirt; give them a few lashes, and they always have grain," the Jin soldiers joked, laughing. "Once we’ve grabbed enough grain, we’ll head to Taiyuan to grab women!"

The north wind of late November felt like a knife, cutting painfully across people's faces. He Quan and Assistant Magistrate Luo personally escorted the grain convoy south. The laborers were driven by whips, stumbling through the snow. When an old man could no longer walk and sat down to catch his breath, the Jin soldier's whip coiled around him like a venomous snake, lashing his back until it was a bloody mess.

"Faster! Don't dawdle like a woman!" the soldier, a Liaodong Han, roared in Chinese, kicking the old man in the back of the knee. The old man fell to his knees, gasping for air, coughed a spray of blood onto the snow, and never rose again.

As the convoy crossed the Hutuo River, dark shadows flickered in the woods by the road. A Jin soldier scoffed: "Wolves."

They looked closer and saw three wild wolves tearing at the corpse of a laborer. Blood splashed onto the white snow, a glaring, piercing red.

The Jurchens laughed: "There are too many soft sheep. Even after killing so many, there's still a huge flock; there's no way to kill them all."

"They collapse after walking such a short distance!" the Jurchen grain officer spat and cursed at his companions, "Remember when we hit Huanglong Prefecture? We carried grain up the mountains under a rain of arrows... who ever dared to complain of being tired?"

Wanyan Gouying reined in his horse, watching the grain convoy stretch out like a long snake toward Shiling Pass. He ordered He Quan: "This little bit of grain isn't enough to fill the gaps in our army's teeth. Tell those behind to collect ten times more, or we'll carve the meat off your own bodies to use as military rations."

He Quan was terrified and scrambled to have the assistant magistrate take men back to Xiurong County to scavenge every grain hidden in the heating beds or salted vegetables buried in cellars.

The Xinzhou judge sneered, cursing to the clerk beside him: "When you were told to guard the city walls, you all pretended to be sick and lazy. Now you see how serious it is? These lowly creatures deserve to freeze or starve to death!"

The clerk didn't answer, but as he watched the peasants being driven by whips, a flicker of pity crossed his eyes.

Meanwhile, the Western Route Army led by Nianhan was resting in Daizhou, which had become a purgatory on earth. Wanyan Xiyin held the documents sent from Xiurong County, circling and marking them with a wolf-hair brush. He sneered: "The scholars of the Southern Dynasty have no strength to truss a chicken; they recite Confucius and Mencius while crawling on their knees to beg for survival."

"Song officials rush toward profit and flee from disaster. Every time a city is breached, the civil officials are the first to offer up the household registries and maps."

The generals in the tent were all eager for battle. The great general Wanyan Loushi slapped the table and shouted in Jurchen: "Yinsuke has succeeded on his side, what are we waiting for? Let’s head south to take Taiyuan, cross the Yellow River, and attack Bianjing! If we’re any later, those brats in the Eastern Route Army will have snatched up all the good things in Bianjing!"

Wanyan Huonu, young and arrogant, pulled out his scimitar and stabbed it into the floor: "Father is right! I will lead three thousand cavalry to charge first; I guarantee we will take Shiling Pass in three days!"

Guo Qizhong, the former deputy military governor of the Liao Dynasty’s Tiande Army, interjected: "We should be careful. I hear Zhang Chunchun of Taiyuan is a hard bone."

"A hard bone?" Huonu tapped his golden helmet with his whip. "Even the hardest bone can be chewed to pieces! I’ve killed so many Southerners, and I’ve yet to see one who truly isn't afraid to die!"

Xiyin put down the documents, his expression complex, and said slowly in Jurchen: "I once thought the Central Plains was a hard bone. Now it seems it is nothing more than soft tofu."

When they were still a tribal confederation, they had viewed the Great Song as a great power of the Central Plains, holding it in high regard. After establishing their own state, the Jin envoys to the Song were amazed by the prosperity they saw, whispering: "The magnificence of the Southern Dynasty's palaces is beyond what we could have imagined."

When they allied to attack the Liao, Taizu Aguda told the Song envoy Zhao Liangsi: "The Emperor of the Great Song is benevolent; we are willing to join you to destroy the Khitan." At the time of the "Alliance at Sea," they had treated the Song as an equal ally.

Xiyin had once told his subordinates: "The Southern Dynasty (Song) has vast territory and abundant resources, with a million armored troops; we must not provoke them lightly."

But looking at it today, it was all a joke! A massive, hilarious joke! As a Jurchen sage, he couldn't help but sigh that the Southerners were remarkably good at keeping up appearances. Had they not proactively attacked the remnants of the Liao army and suffered a disastrous defeat, the Great Jin might have truly hesitated to invade the Song.

Wanyan Zonghan, also known as Nianhan, had remained silent. Now, he struck the table: "Enough! Pass the order: at dawn tomorrow, the entire army moves out! Loushi will lead the left wing to attack Shiling Pass, Huonu will flank from the right, and Yinsuke will lead the elite cavalry as the vanguard! I want to take the Hedong Circuit (Shanxi) within half a month and then march straight to Bianjing!"

The generals roared their agreement. The torches in the tent shook, casting long, menacing shadows of the scars on their faces.

"Once we enter Bianjing, I'll let the boys go for ten days without sheathing their blades—let them run wild! Take whatever catches their eye!" Loushi laughed.

"I want to seize those princesses and make them my wives!" Wanyan Huonu waved his scimitar.

"We should empty their national treasury so our descendants will never have to worry about food or drink!" A greedy glint shone in the eyes of the left-route marshal Nianhan, though he maintained a look of righteous indignation.

"The Commander is wise." Everyone burst into loud laughter.

Outside the tent, the cold wind howled, carrying snow particles, as if providing an accompaniment to the impending bloodbath. On the road to Shiling Pass, the driven laborers continued to trudge along, stumbling through the snow. Those who fell never rose again, soon to be buried by the wind and snow. Only the starving wolves in the mountains watched this long, winding procession from the shadows, waiting for their next feast.