Chapter Fifteen: The Ambush

Yang Xiaolin forced a faint smile from the corner of his mouth. “Strategically, we stick to one principle: avoid strength and exploit weakness. Tactically, sixteen words—if the enemy advances, we retreat; if the enemy halts, we harass; if the enemy tires, we strike; if the enemy retreats, we pursue.”

Gu Tianming listened with some confusion. “Commander, what if they capture our stronghold?”

“We abandon it!” Yang Xiaolin replied decisively. “Don’t worry about pots and pans. My only concern is keeping our men alive. As for possessions, I don’t have the power to save them. Have every brother prepare a large sack, stuffed with five days’ worth of dry rations. Keep these sacks and their rifles together, carried at all times—even while sleeping, they’re not to be put down. Hide as much of the remaining food as possible, and burn whatever can’t be concealed. Now, hurry!”

Whether or not Yang Xiaolin wanted to accept it, he had to admit that his first counter-siege had begun, catching him utterly unprepared and unfolding with abruptness.

Yang Xiaolin looked at Jin Dadao and Gu Tianming. “Gentlemen, let me make something clear. The Qing forces are powerful. If we don’t work together, it will be very hard to survive this ordeal. I don’t care what grudges exist between you two. From now on, I hope you’ll follow my orders. If you can’t, I won’t force you—leave now, take your men, and we’ll go our separate ways.”

Leaving was not an option. Jin Dadao and Gu Tianming both knew they had no other path. To depart from this group meant certain destruction. Their eyes flicked toward each other, met briefly in the air, then darted away.

Jin Dadao nodded. “Brother Yang, rest assured. I’ve been in this game for years and never undermined my own side. But you’ll need to keep an eye on a few people.”

Gu Tianming ignored him and stood up. “Commander, I’ll go organize everyone to pack up.”

As Zhao Yansun led over a thousand soldiers charging up Gulu Mountain, the magistrate had just arrived in Shengjing.

General Zeng Qi of Shengjing and the young Prince Zaitao were busy negotiating with the Russians about their withdrawal, leaving no time to see him. He only managed to meet Zhao Ersun. Zhao Ersun greeted the magistrate warmly. “Ah, Lord Zhang, you’re a busy man these days. How do you find the time to visit us?”

Magistrate Zhang forced a bitter smile. “Lord Zhao, I’m in serious trouble this time!”

Zhao Ersun was startled, seeing the magistrate’s grave expression, and set aside his brush. “What happened?”

Magistrate Zhang was deeply dejected. “The night before last, outside Fengtian City, the Russian garrison at Ganzi Tun was wiped out by a band of brigands. All five hundred Russians there were killed—not one left alive!”

Zhao Ersun’s hand, holding his teacup, shook violently, the lid falling and shattering on the floor. “What!”

The magistrate didn’t dare utter a sound. “I truly don’t know how it happened. Those bandits numbered just over two hundred—I never imagined they could take down the Russian camp! When the gunfire erupted, I sent men to check, but it was already too late.”

Zhao Ersun was even more astonished, incredulous. “What did you say? Two hundred bandits wiped out a Russian camp of five hundred? You’re not joking, are you?”

The magistrate replied tremblingly, “Lord Zhao, would I joke about this? Disaster has come to my door! I beg you, for the sake of our past friendship, show me a way out!”

It took Zhao Ersun a long moment to regain composure. “This is huge! Lord Zhang, do you know the background of these bandits?”

“They’re from Gulu Mountain. The former leader was Liu Yikun, whom we’ve killed. This time, the leader is said to be a bandit named Yang Xiaolin.”

“Yang Xiaolin?”

“He used to be a commander in our Qing army, stationed in Shengjing. Lord Zhao, I’ve already sent men to suppress them, but as for dealing with the aftermath of so many foreign deaths, I’m just a lowly magistrate—I can’t make decisions.”

Zhao Ersun’s face twisted with a bitter smile. “Lord Zhang, if you can’t decide, do you think I can? The Prince and General are negotiating with the Russians, trying to reclaim Western Liaoning. The Russians are stubborn and won’t yield an inch! Frankly, your timing couldn’t be worse!”

The magistrate pulled a small parcel from his pocket and handed it to Zhao Ersun. “Lord Zhao, this concerns my life and livelihood. Please, I beg you to handle this matter carefully. I’ll never forget your help!”

Zhao Ersun weighed the package in his hand and shook his head. “It’s not a matter of money! We’ve already paid out four hundred and fifty million taels of silver. If compensation could settle the matter, who would care about this little bit?”

Though he claimed not to care, he slipped the parcel into his own pocket. Its contents were the magistrate’s earnings since he took office in Fengtian. Watching it disappear into Zhao Ersun’s coat, the magistrate felt a pang of loss.

But at least he was willing to accept payment, which meant there was hope.

Zhao Ersun stood up. “Lord Zhang, please wait here. I’ll go find the Prince at once—he needs to be informed right away. You’re lucky, our Prince has studied in France and isn’t like the usual aristocrats.”

The magistrate quickly bowed. “Thank you, Lord Zhao!”

As Zhao Ersun’s figure vanished from sight, the magistrate’s brow furrowed again, anxiety and unease not eased one bit by knowing the Prince had studied abroad. What was a Prince compared to the foreign powers? If the Westerners were displeased and demanded punishment, not even the Empress Dowager could intervene, let alone a Prince.

Now, he could only hope Zhao Yansun’s campaign would go smoothly, that the troublesome bandits would all be captured, so he could account for himself to the foreigners. The most hateful were those bandits! The magistrate unconsciously muttered a name unfamiliar to him. “Yang Xiaolin! You’re digging up my ancestors’ graves!”

Yang Xiaolin sneezed, rubbed his nose, and continued to stare at the approaching Qing soldiers below. His finger rested on the trigger of the Maxim heavy machine gun, and he addressed the men manning the other two guns beside him. “Stay calm, remember what I told you earlier. Don’t panic, keep the muzzles down when you fire.”

The three heavy machine guns were set together, camouflaged with willow branches and straw. Sui Bing and the others remained close to Yang Xiaolin. To say they weren’t nervous would be a lie—this was their first battle against the imperial army, their first time using the Maxim guns.

Though Yang Xiaolin had briefly explained some techniques, it wasn’t enough for everyone to operate the guns proficiently.

He had considered this, so all three guns were placed together—if anything went wrong, he could fix it quickly.

At noon, with the sun high overhead, Sui Bing felt his palms slick with sweat, his finger trembling on the trigger, a bead rolling down his cheek unnoticed.

Yang Xiaolin looked at him and smiled. “No need to be nervous. These beasts are powerful, and the Qing soldiers are packed tight. When they get close, just keep the muzzles down and sweep as I told you—you’ll mow down a whole swath!”