sovbooks Chapter 15 Going South
Chapter 15 Going South
Inside Qing Shi Fort, the wind and sand carried the lingering sweet, metallic smell, repeatedly tugging at the broken walls and ruins. Li Qian knelt by the well, his military knife rubbing roughly against his trouser leg. The blood had dried and thickened, making a rustling sound as it rubbed against his coarse cloth uniform. He didn't turn around, his gaze fixed on the end of the official road to Cheng'an County in the north. There, apart from the distorted shadows cast by the blazing sun, the expected yellow dust hadn't yet risen, but the air was thick with the mingled smells of gunpowder and blood, stinging his eyes.
"Boss Li, you found it."
Sun Deshan walked over, his steps heavy. His feet crunched on the dry, cracked earth with an extremely faint sound. The old镖头 (bodyguard/escort) carried an oil-soaked leather bag, which he had forcibly torn from the ribs of the ringleader, the edges of the leather still bearing traces of undried dark red.
Sun Deshan squatted down and poured the leather bag onto the bluestone well platform.
A few crisp "clinks" broke the deathly silence.
The three pieces of blackened silver, weighing no more than four taels, were of poor quality even by today's standards for official silver. Having been carried around in the body of a dead man for so long, they even exuded a damp, chilly aura. The remaining few copper coins, stained with blood, emitted an unpleasant smell of rust and sweat. The most conspicuous item was the cast iron waist tag. Li Qian reached out and grabbed it, flipping it over. On the back was engraved the official seal of "Zhili Standard Army Third Battalion." There were several tiny chips along the edge of the tag, as if it had been struck by a stray bullet or repeatedly by a blunt object.
Li Qian rubbed the character "标" with his calloused thumb, his eyes dark and gloomy.
"Sun Deshan," Li Qian spoke, his voice hoarse, "Take the big piece of silver, I'll keep the rest. On this journey south, buying grain, medicine, and roads all require silver to pave the way. In this world, silver is more valuable than human life."
Li Qian tossed the piece of silver over, and Sun Deshan caught it and casually stuffed it deep into the leg bindings of his straw sandals.
Li Qian then looked at Old Zhao and Awang, who were huddled in the corner of the well. The uncle and nephew's eyes were fixed on the copper coins, their Adam's apples heaving violently.
"Awang, this money is for you and your uncle. Go, sew it into your crotch, don't let anyone notice." Li Qian's voice was cold. "If you take the money, you have to do the job cleanly. Go, strangle these horses. If they dare to snort, I'll cut out your tongue and use it as a hooves."
Awang shuddered, nodded repeatedly, and pounced on the five old horses that were pawing restlessly at the ground. Old Zhao, trembling, put away the copper coins, looked at Awang's appearance, gritted his teeth, and slapped his nephew on the back of the head before kowtowing to Li Qian.
Li Qian's gaze fell on the last item that had fallen out of the leather bag.
It was a paper roll wrapped in sheepskin, its edges worn and frayed, with oil stains and grime plastered on the surface, making it sticky to the touch. Li Qian peeled back the sheepskin, and the paper roll inside emitted a pungent, musty smell and a faint scent of gunpowder.
Because the map had been tucked close to the body of a soldier for so long, small tears had appeared at the creases, and the edges were yellowed and blackened by sweat. Li Qian carefully unfolded it; the paper was extremely fragile, and a layer of dry fibers would fall off with the slightest pressure. Many of the paths on the paper had been worn away and blurred, and the vermilion lines that originally represented official roads had faded to a dull dark brown. Even more glaring were the black holes from cigarette butts burning into the paper, some of which had burned away crucial intersections. Only the remaining official seal had half an edge of crimson left, clinging tightly to the corner of the paper.
Sun Deshan leaned closer, staring at the badly worn paper: "This is the route the sergeant got off his horse. Look at how worn it is, those scumbags must have run hundreds of miles with it. Although it's a bit damaged, you can still recognize the main roads and county boundaries on it."
Li Qian didn't reply, pressing his fingers heavily on the darkened creases. He rolled up the tattered piece of clothing again and stuffed it tightly into the lining of his chest, where it was closest to his heart and driest.
"Sun Deshan, gather that matchlock gun properly. Not a single lead bullet or gunpowder should spill." Li Qian stood up and pointed to the five horses.
The horse was a hybrid of the Hequ horse, so thin it was skin and bones, with its ribs clearly protruding beneath its skin. Its back was covered in thick, dark purple calluses from carrying heavy loads for so long; in many places, the calluses had become festering and hardened.
The group moved mechanically. Li Qian walked to Su Mo'er's side. The girl had been carrying water the whole time, and her small hands had been cut open by the rough hemp rope, but she hadn't uttered a sound. She just stared intently at the chipped knife in Li Qian's hand.
Wang's wife slumped against the wall, clutching her starved child tightly in her arms. The infant in her swaddling clothes was already shriveled and blackened, emitting a nauseating stench of decay. She wasn't insane, but her bloodshot eyes were fixed on the child with a near-mad lucidity. If anyone dared to suggest she abandon the child, she would bare her teeth like a frightened mother wolf.
Li Qian walked up to Wang's wife, his shadow looming over her.
"The child is dead." Li Qian's voice was as cold and hard as stone.
Wang's daughter-in-law let out a low, hoarse roar.
"I won't let you throw him away. If you want to bury him, I'll give you a horse to ride." Li Qian bent down, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints. "But listen carefully, if you dare to make even the slightest sound and attract the soldiers, I'll snatch this child and chop him to pieces before they kill you. If you want him to have a whole corpse, you'd better shut your mouth. If you want to live, do as I say."
Wang's wife trembled, forcing back the tears welling in her eyes. She bit her lower lip hard until a string of crimson beads of blood seeped out, then mechanically nodded to Li Qian.
"Awang, tie her to your back, make sure she's securely wrapped up."
Awang mounted his horse and used a hemp rope to tightly bind Wang's wife and the dead infant behind him, the rope digging deep into their clothes.
The team moved.
After traveling less than two miles, we passed an abandoned threshing ground. What should have been a place covered with wheat straw was now covered with something else.
Li Qian slowed his horse down, his gaze sweeping coldly over the roadside.
There lay a dozen or so corpses of refugees lying haphazardly. Due to dehydration and sun exposure, most of the bodies had taken on an eerie dark brown hue. The first thing that caught the eye were the corpses of several children, their bellies swollen astonishingly large—they must have been bloated from eating too much clay before they died.
Further on, several adult male corpses lay mangled. The muscles at the base of their thighs had been twisted away, the cuts jagged and uneven, clearly severed with a rusty, blunt knife or a shard of porcelain. One victim's face was gone, revealing bright red cheek flesh with white veins, and one eye had been gouged out. Deeper into the pile of corpses, a woman's chest had been ripped open, her heart and liver empty, her ribs pried open, the pale bone fragments gleaming coldly in the setting sun, like some kind of absurd hunting trap.
The organs and soft flesh here are clearly abnormally missing, not the work of wild dogs—wild dogs would gnaw on the cheeks and abdomen first, while the knife marks on these corpses are human marks.
The stark white skeleton gleamed with a phosphorescent glow in the setting sun; it was not merely the bones of a dead man, but the very essence of the sixth year of the Xianfeng Emperor's reign.
"Boss Li..." Ah Wang gagged from behind, his face as white as a sheet.
"Look ahead." Li Qian didn't turn around, his hand gripping the knife as steady as a rock. "Whoever eats this kind of meat will die."
The horse's hooves clattered dully on the dry, cracked earth. Behind Awang, Wang's wife let out a heavy, suppressed breath.
Suddenly, the old horse in front abruptly pulled back its hooves, raised its head high, and let out a short, mournful whinny.
A fresh, intense, almost tangible stench of decay filled the air. Accompanying this stench was a faint but deadly smell of burning gunpowder.
At the border of Linzhang County, on Liu Family Wasteland, a few faint green lights appeared on the horizon. They weren't fireflies, but phosphorescent lights from hundreds or thousands of corpses piled together and rotting to their limit. And deep within those phosphorescent lights, there were also a few low, mournful cries, like wild beasts fighting over food.
The Wang family's daughter-in-law, who was tied behind Awang's back, convulsed violently. The bond between mother and son made her almost unable to suppress the sobs in her throat.
"Awang! Cover her!"
Li Qian roared in a low voice and pulled out the nicked military knife.
Awang grabbed Wang's wife's mouth and nose tightly with his other hand. Tears welled up in Wang's wife's eyes, but under Li Qian's murderous gaze, she swallowed all her cries back into her lungs.
From the shadows of the barren slope ahead, countless pairs of gleaming eyes turned in unison. These weren't wolves, but starving refugees, no longer human. They carried broken hoes, machetes, and even sharpened bones, their saliva dripping from their parched chins in thin, transparent strands.
"Sun Deshan! Suppress the fire with the musket!"