Chapter 22: Ghost Payrolls

Because the vast majority of those people had sworn an oath to heaven, Su Yunqing’s last few days on the ship were nothing short of idyllic. Kindness, smiles, civility, and propriety seemed etched into their very bones. No one suddenly pulled out a tool to relieve themselves anymore, nor did groups gather to crack meaningless jokes. Each day, when she opened the cabin door, she was greeted by faces radiant as the morning glow.

It was truly wonderful.

Meng Hu placed a kernel of corn into one of the small compartments on the eight-immortal table and said, “Young Master Cheng, we’re about to reach Cenzhou. I’m quite reluctant to part ways with you.”

The Dove then placed a peanut into the compartment next to the corn, adding, “Yes, Young Master Cheng, thank you for teaching us to play chess. After we disembark, will we see each other again?”

Su Yunqing rested her cheek on her hand, tilting her head thoughtfully. “If fate allows, we will surely meet again.”

The Dove turned to look at her. “Do you remember the exact address of your relatives’ home? I’m afraid my old ailment might flare up. I’ll have to come find you then.”

“I don’t know the precise location,” Su Yunqing replied. “They will send someone to pick me up at the dock. Just follow what I told you—avoid eating anything you shouldn’t, and you won’t relapse.”

“Oh, that’s best!” The Dove glanced back at the chessboard, sensing something amiss, and shouted, “Brother Hu, you’re cheating! Did you remove one of my pieces?”

Meng Hu smacked his lips. “How could that be? I was about to win anyway. Do you have any proof I took your piece?”

The Dove, fuming, pointed at him. “Your words are proof!”

Meng Hu raised his hand to press down on the Dove’s, saying, “Behave yourself. Be proper, be proper!”

Suddenly, a man burst in with a panicked expression. “Trouble! There’s a fleet ahead, and I don’t know who they are.”

Everyone rushed to the deck and gazed toward the distance. Rows upon rows of ships slowly made their way toward the shoreline, vast in number, with no end in sight.

Uncle Kun and Ling Yuan emerged from the cabin one after another. Uncle Kun observed intently, his expression suddenly darkening. “This is bad. They’re the Wokou.”

Ling Yuan frowned. “Wokou? With so many of them, it seems they come with ill intent. We must not continue forward. Uncle Kun, turn right and halt our progress.”

“All right, but our target isn’t small either. It’s easy for them to spot us. Should we just turn north for a while?”

Ling Yuan’s gaze was deep as he looked at the flags on the dock ahead. “It’s fine. With such a grand display, they’re probably not after us. I fear today this harbor is in for trouble.”

Indeed, they stopped moving forward, but the ships advanced deliberately toward the dock.

Su Yunqing was speechless at the sight—the Wokou’s inhuman acts were notorious, and she knew what their landing meant.

“Why is no one coming out to stop them? With such a formidable force, can’t the watchtower see them? They’re getting closer to shore. How can we let them land?”

No one answered her question.

Uncle Kun said, “This is Huamu Harbor, less than a day’s journey from Cenzhou, long guarded by soldiers. Even if they land, they might not fare well.”

“But if they do, what about the people onshore? Their homes and possessions? Why has no one resisted?”

“Um…”

Meng Hu patted her shoulder. “Young Master Cheng, you are kind-hearted, but in this situation, there’s little we can do. If the sides weren’t so unevenly matched, we wouldn’t be sitting here watching helplessly.”

Tears welled in Su Yunqing’s eyes. “Are we really just going to watch them land and pillage? Brother Ling, is there no way to help those people?”

Ling Yuan looked at her and shook his head. “There’s a garrison of six thousand troops stationed here. I roughly estimated—the Wokou number about four to five thousand. The army should have the advantage, but with just a few of us, we can only die trying.”

Su Yunqing asked again, “Only six thousand soldiers? What about the ships? The court allocates considerable funds annually to resist the Wokou. They have ships—what about ours?”

Silence fell over the deck; no one responded.

By evening, the group aboard the ship listened in heavy sorrow as shouts echoed from the dock.

A small boat approached slowly. Uncle Kun and Ling Yuan hurried to meet it.

The man aboard disembarked and clasped his fists in greeting. “Uncle Kun, Young Master Ling.”

Ling Yuan returned the gesture. “What’s the situation over there?”

The man shook his head. “In broad daylight, they watched the Wokou swagger ashore. Less than four thousand of them, yet here, they were utterly defenseless…”

Ling Yuan frowned, his expression grave. “Six thousand troops against four thousand, on home ground, familiar terrain—they should have been assured victory.”

The man exhaled bitterly. “Six thousand? In my experience, at most three thousand.”

“What? They’re pocketing pay for soldiers who don’t exist? That’s reckless disregard for lives—completely outrageous.”

The man’s face was full of resentment and helplessness. “This has been going on for some time. They collect pay for six thousand soldiers but maintain only three thousand. When peace reigns, no one notices. Once the Wokou strike, the truth is revealed.”

Ling Yuan clenched his teeth. “No wonder the Wokou landed so easily—they don’t dare to face battle at sea. Perhaps they don’t even have a decent warship. This leaves the coastal people to suffer undeservedly. It’s infuriating!”

Uncle Kun said, “Given this situation, we estimate we must wait here for two more days. The Wokou’s goal is wealth; they won’t leave easily without thoroughly looting the shore.”

Ling Yuan asked the messenger, “Is there a way to send a message to Longyin Mountain?”

The man shook his head. “Longyin Mountain is surrounded on three sides and has been for a long time. Otherwise, you wouldn’t need to take such a roundabout route for supplies.”

Ling Yuan pondered briefly, then his eyes lit up. “No, they’re used to pocketing pay and shirking duties. Longyin Mountain must have a weak point. I’ll write a letter. You take it back and tell your leader to find the fastest way to get it to Uncle Lang.”

“All right.”

Ling Yuan’s letter departed with the small boat. His expression darkened as he watched it recede. Turning, Su Yunqing stood silently behind him.

“Brother Ling, did you hear the sounds from shore?”

Ling Yuan’s face was impassive. “I did.”

“Is there really nothing we can do?”

“I promised to get you to Cenzhou. I will. But we can’t proceed rashly now. We must assess the situation ahead.”

Meng Hu approached. “Young Master Cheng, I know you’re kind and want to help, but surely you don’t want us to charge forward and die?”

Su Yunqing lowered her gaze; that was never her intention. To fight a doomed battle would be folly.

“Shall we try another dock and ask them to send reinforcements?”

Meng Hu replied, “They’re already doing that. It’s not our place. I know it’s hard to watch others suffer, but so is it for us. Sometimes we must endure and stay calm. Rash actions help no one and might destroy ourselves.”

That night, the shore seemed calm, but everyone knew the agony endured there—and aboard the ship, the torment was equally intense.

No one could sleep peacefully. Su Yunqing stepped out of the cabin while Ling Yuan remained at the bow, gazing toward the dock.

Suddenly, one by one, the ships moored along the shore burst into scattered flames.