Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 500 Choice
On the 21st day of the 12th month of the 14th year of Chongzhen (1641), Changshan Island (now Da Changshan Island).

Shang Kexi sat beside the charcoal brazier, holding a newly opened letter in his hand. The glow of the charcoal in the brazier cast intermittent light and shadow on half of his face.

The letter was written by Zhong Minghui. It was polite in its language, but carried a subtle hint of probing.

"...General Shang's elite troops are fierce and brave. Five hundred of them were borrowed to assist my troops in defending Gaizhou. The food and supplies were all borne by Xinhua. Once the situation eases, they will all be returned."

Shang Kexi gave a soft snort and tossed the letter onto the table.

"My lord, this letter..." Shang Ping, the commander of the personal guards, stood aside and asked in a low voice.

"What?" Shang Kexi stretched his frozen fingers toward the charcoal brazier.

"Sir, if our men follow them... will they never return?" Shang Ping asked cautiously.

Shang Kexi glanced at him and sneered, "What's there to be afraid of? No matter how powerful the Xinhua people are, can they swallow my people? Besides, they're fighting the Tartars. It's better for our people to go with them than to stay on the island and starve."

Shang Ping shrank back, not daring to say anything more.

"The New Year is just around the corner." Shang Kexi was silent for a while before suddenly speaking, "Go to the treasury and take 1,000 shi of rice and grain. Give each soldier three dou of it, and also distribute some of the dried fish that have been stored up so that everyone can have a few good meals. In addition, inform all the battalions that the four months of back pay will be paid in full before the New Year as appropriate, to boost the morale of the entire army."

"Yes, sir!" Shang Ping's eyes lit up instantly. He straightened up immediately, cupped his hands in acknowledgment, and his steps became lighter as he turned around.

He has an elderly mother and several brothers at home. The military pay he received over the past few months, plus three bushels of rice, is enough for his family to have a good New Year.

Shang Kexi didn't turn around, but simply raised his hand to signal him to go and do his job.

The door creaked open and closed, letting in a gust of cold wind that made the sparks in the charcoal brazier jump again.

He looked out the window and saw a dozen or so strings of dried sea fish hanging on the pillars, their gills glistening with a faint salt frost—these were gifts from the islanders last month.

The islanders used to hide from soldiers, but now they will take the initiative to deliver things, all thanks to the new Chinese immigrants.

A few years ago, at this time of year on Changshan Island, let alone dried fish, there might not even be enough thin porridge mixed with tree bark to drink.

But now, even the grain cellar in his mansion is half full of potatoes, the vegetable cellar in the backyard is piled with dried pickled fish, and even the soldiers guarding the island can eat two meals of dry rice mixed with corn grits every day.

Most of these were given by the new Chinese.

He recalled the first time he met Zhong Minghui ten years ago—when the Xinhua people had just established themselves in southern Liaoning, Zhong Minghui was holding out on Ku Niang Island with hundreds of armed Liaomin and more than a thousand refugees he had gathered. When he first saw him, Zhong Minghui's face showed murderous intent, and he was ready to kill him.

However, after he expressed his firm determination to resist the invaders, the other side's attitude became more friendly. They not only provided him with money and food, but also brought ships to accompany him in attacking and breaking through the Denglai Water City, cutting off Kong Youde's rebel army's retreat.

Since then, the two sides have cooperated more.

Merchant ships from the new Chinese would quietly anchor in secluded bays on the islands of Liaodong, bringing grain, salt, iron, tea, and cloth in exchange for sea cucumbers, abalone, and furs from the islands. Sometimes they would also bring firearms made in their new islands—these muskets had a longer range and more stable performance than the arquebuses used by the Ming army, and the cannons were comparable to the Hongyi cannons used by the towns of Liaodong.

Later, the Xinhua people sent several old farmers over to teach the islanders how to cultivate potatoes and corn, saying that these two crops were "resistant to poverty and high-yield".

When harvesting in the autumn of that year, Shang Kexi went to the field himself and found that one mu of land yielded more than 400 jin of potatoes, more than twice as much as when he planted millet.

Although the two sides cooperated very closely and helped each other, for some reason, Shang Kexi always felt that Xinhua people seemed to be a layer away from him, and even had a slight sense of wariness towards him.

The shrewd and opportunistic Shen Shikui was more trusted by the Xinhua people. He not only helped Dongjiang Town design and build three strong fortresses: Pidao, Tieshan, and Yizhou, but also provided them with a larger number of firearms. He even sent more than a dozen military instructors to guide the officers and soldiers of the Dongjiang Town Firearms Battalion on how to deploy and fight.

As for the highly profitable smuggling trade, it was even more massive, with more than 300,000 to 500,000 taels of gold and silver passing through each year, making Dongjiang Town the wealthiest military town in the entire Liaodong region.

"Hmph, those slick, mercenary people are better at pleasing the new Chinese than I am at winning their favor," Shang Kexi muttered under his breath, feeling even more irritated. He wasn't envious of Shen Shikui's wealth; he was angry at the new Chinese's wariness, and angry that despite having a blood feud with the Tartars, he was always being suspected.

Outside, the sea breeze was getting stronger, making the roof tiles crackle and pop.

Shang Kexi, wearing a fox fur cloak, led several guards out of the government office and to the seaside, where he stood on a high rock and gazed into the distance.

The distant sea was shrouded in a hazy gray, with mist mingling with the water, obscuring the outline of the opposite shore.

But Shang Kexi knew that on the other side of the sea lay Liaodong, the territory of the Qing invaders, and the root of his blood feud.

His father, Shang Xueli, fought against the Tartars in the fourth year of the Tianqi reign and died at Louzishan (southeast of present-day Haicheng, Liaoning), his remains never found.

Even earlier, when Liaoyang fell, his entire Shang family, consisting of more than ten members, all died under the swords of the Qing invaders.

With so much blood debt, who knows when we will be able to avenge it?
"My lord!" Footsteps sounded behind him. It was Wu Jingong, the guerrilla commander of Changsheng Island, carrying a flask of wine. "It's freezing cold. Why are you standing here in the wind? Have a couple of drinks to warm yourself up!"

Shang Kexi took the wine jug, tilted his head back and took a swig. The strong liquor burned his throat, causing him to squint slightly.

"Old Wu, what do you mean..." Shang Kexi stared at the sea, then suddenly spoke, "What if one day we really have nowhere to turn?"

Wu Jingong paused for a moment, then grinned, "Sir, you jest. Aren't we doing just fine now? We have food and pay, and we can even earn some extra money with the Xinhua people. It's much better than back in Dongjiang Town."

Shang Kexi didn't reply, but just took another swig of wine.

Seeing this, Wu Jingong tentatively asked, "What are you worried about, sir...?"

Shang Kexi smiled and said, "That General Zhong from Xinhua asked me several times if I would surrender to the enemy if I were to face dire straits."

Wu Jingong exclaimed in surprise, "Sir, we all have an irreconcilable blood feud with the Tartars, how could we possibly surrender to them?... Unless we've been kicked in the head by a donkey!"

Shang Kexi was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "But what if... the imperial court really abandons us? Just like more than ten years ago, when Dongjiang Town was short of food, the imperial court delayed sending grain for more than half a year, and countless soldiers and civilians on the islands starved to death. In the end, what was sent was moldy grain."

Wu Jingong's smile froze. He took the wine jug but didn't drink it, just staring blankly at the sea.

Yes, can the imperial court be trusted?
Over the years, they have been guarding the islands of Liaodong and fighting the Tartars to the death, but the imperial court's provisions and pay have always been delayed. If it weren't for the help of the new Chinese who brought cheap rice from the south, they would have been unable to survive long ago.

"General Huang (Huang Long) once said in Lushun, 'I'd rather die standing than live kneeling.'" Shang Kexi patted Wu Jingong on the shoulder and said in a deep voice, "So even if the court abandons us, we cannot kneel down and bow our heads to the Tartars. The Tartars killed our families, raped our sisters, and occupied our land. We will never compromise with them in this lifetime!"

“You’re right, sir!” Wu Jingong nodded. “If we really can’t survive, we can always go to the New Continent with those Liao people to beg for a living. At least we’ll have something to eat. Look at those Xinhua soldiers. Weren’t they all Liao people struggling to survive before? But now they’re well-fed and strong by the Xinhua people. I heard they even have houses and land allocated to their families, and their monthly salary is as high as eight or nine taels of silver. That’s what you call living a good life, with something to look forward to!”

Upon hearing this, Shang Kexi smiled slightly but remained silent.

However, there was a hint of helplessness and desolation in that smile.

The wind picked up again, making his fox fur cloak flutter loudly.

He gazed at the misty sea, feeling as if a stone was pressing on his heart.

No matter how good Xinzhou is, he is a military general of the Ming Dynasty, and this is Ming territory. How can he just leave?
Is the Ming Dynasty really unable to accommodate a few soldiers who want to fight the Tartars and defend the land?

The shouts of soldiers changing shifts echoed from the distant artillery platform, carrying far in the cold wind.

Shang Kexi suddenly clenched his fist. No matter what, he would wipe out the Tartars first, and think about the rest later.
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(End of this chapter)