ITIEQ C39

Chapter 39 – I Am the Butcher, You Are the Fish

Zhao Jinshan returned to his lodging inn.

Though no agreement was struck, still the commandery allotted generous hospitality—food and shelter secure, a promise even to dispatch escorts in a few days to see their caravan safely out.

His servants, relieved for their master’s safety, relaxed into food and sleep. But Zhao Jinshan tossed restlessly, unable to shut his eyes all night. Finally, he jolted upright in bed.

No relations to the Yue clan, he says… But then what relations?

The Yue clan’s lands lay a thousand li from Cangzhou. Why mention them at all? Why then deny it outright?

First, the ambush by brigands. Then, this county so utterly different from the outside world—well-fed soldiers, gleaming blades, shining armor. The whole day’s peril left him shaken, forcing thoughts deeper and darker.

Zhao Jinshan dealt always in silver and grain. He knew well: without vast wealth, it was impossible to raise fine horses and forge weapons sharp as lightning in this barren northwest. If they leaned on no hidden patron, how else could they support so many men and horses? With farming? Impossible.

He froze. Sweat poured like rain.

It must be… the Yue clan raising private troops in secret!

His stubby hands trembled so much he spilled his tea.

Jiaozhou’s governor was from the mighty Qi family clan. Yet in recent years even they bowed to the Yue. If the governor of Qiuquan had ties to Yue, then refusing him earlier was suicide. Best case, he was forgotten. Worst case, he would be “weighed and measured”—and silenced. And he himself had already seen the armory, soldiers and steel with his own eyes! Would such men ever grant him mercy? In these times, to lose one’s life was lighter than a breath.

Green-bean eyes darting, sweat pouring, Zhao Jinshan saw again and again in his mind the youth’s faint smile—paired with iron blades and hooks dripping blood.

Shuddering, he threw on coat, woke two strong retainers, and stumbled off in the night toward the inner offices of the magistrate.

Late hour it was, yet even the commandery’s lights were still awake. Many gates later, he stood again before that youth whose smile split his fearful bowels.

The governor sat still at the hall, red robes traded for plain white. At his side sat Xue Bufan, the other official Zhao had glimpsed before. The two conversed by candlelight.

Seeing him, Shen Qinghe greeted with his same easy smile, “Ah, Merchant Zhao.”

“No, no, this commoner dares not…” Zhao Jinshan bent stiffly, managed a bow, “Forgive me for disturbing at night.”

“You do not disturb. Here in Qiuquan, people study deep into the night. Even our children seldom sleep before the Dog hour.” Shen glanced at the dripping clepsydra upon the table. “I still have a quarter hour before off-duty. Speak.”

Zhao circled anxiously, sweat dripping, then, seeing the boy tapping his desk and smiling faintly, blurted his plea—he wished to retract his words, reconsider, perhaps cooperate after all.

Shen only murmured an “Oh”—yet drew it out, making Zhao fear a thousand dreads. Then the boy smiled.

“Very well. Then we shall look again.”

Xue Bufan stiffened with surprise: the governor’s ridiculous bluff about Yue had actually worked! He looked nothing like he had ties to the Yue. That the fat merchant swallowed it—truly, the man was a fool.

But just then, pounding came at the outer doors.

At such an hour, no trifling matter would bring such interruption. Shen lifted a hand to stop Zhao’s next words.

A patrol captain rushed in, relief flooding his face as soon as he saw Shen within. “My lord! The beacon tower has lit twice. Likely the Hu nomads stir for invasion!”

The news struck like thunder. Shen and Xue stayed calm, but Zhao Jinshan nearly fainted. In Jiaozhou, nomads were only idle tales told in teahouses. Now, here, the border enemies marched in truth.

“By Heaven—what… what do we do?!”

Shen Qinghe laughed lightly, teeth gleaming. Slipping on outer robe, he muttered, “So late, and these rascals try night raids? Yao Guang had scarcely left. Their noses are sharper than his. Now I have to work overtime.”

He strode outward, commanding: “Tell the posts to keep alert! We fed troops and drilled long for this very day. Now is the use of it.”

At the door he paused, turning back to the fat merchant shivering like jelly. “Fear not, Merchant. I promise every single hair upon you safe till you rejoin wife and daughters.”

—

Under black sky, sparks of fire beacons flared.

The Hu raiders often troubled borders, but never this many at once. Upset for vengeance, or lusting for Qiuquan’s newfound wealth today, they pressed in numbers vast.

Shen mustered not only soldiers but laborers, craftsmen too. They may lack battle skill—but their arms were strong, and they would not see hard-won peace undone.

Horses were few; Shen and Xue mounted the only sturdy pairs. Seeing their governor ride amidst, commoners steadied—fear giving way to fierce resolve.

Red cloth snapped in torchlight, like flame itself.

“Are you afraid?” Shen asked them.

Faces glowed red with fire, silent beneath night. Once starved to skeletons, now broad men and strong women stood.

Afraid? Of course. Those at borders knew well the horror of Hu cavalry.

But Shen Qinghe sneered.

“Tonight—who is butcher and who is flesh, yet to be known.”

Iron forged not only sickles and knives, but weapons. Now rested in hands that had long wielded only mattocks.

Not knives at belt—but fire-tubes in arms. Newborn weapons of smokepowder, crude yet powerful—unwieldy, often errant, sometimes misfiring. But one volley was enough to rattle Heaven.

At Shen’s nod, his captain fired at a boulder. The explosion cracked the night, air thick with gunpowder. The earth-shaking blast made blood rush hot in every heart.

Folk staggered back, stunned to see such thunder from a simple iron rod. And then—courage blazed; the timid now drunk with awe.

Shen had long drilled them, beacon towers only one part of his plan. Now all fell into place: lines, trenches, trip-ropes.

Xue, seeing him still unshaken, calmed too, urging his horse beside. “Who knew you had a general’s craft?”

Shen said with sardonic grin, “I don’t. This is my first real fight.”

(Does a thousand hours in ‘Mount & Blade’ count? he mused.)

Xue reeled. “Then you…?”

“Student rallies, oath rallies—I spoke as class president then.” Shen’s grin twitched. “So I know how to act the part.”

Excitement brimmed through him, manic and wild. Xue whispered: “…Madman.”

Shen’s eyes glimmered. “Too late to flee. You’ll fight with this madman now.” He yanked reins, horse shrilling.

“Come, Assistant Xue. We’ve work yet to do.”

From dark crowd rose a will: the homes they built, the plows, the new mills and looms—they would not surrender them now. Once they had starved to bones. Never again. Better die fighting than return to that.

—

The Hu cavalry thundered. Zhao Jinshan peered from a haystack, limbs limp, heart seizing. Yet he gaped—the county commoners, half-unarmed, some mere peasants, actually stood their ground!

Night sky erupted into fire.

Traps laid, ropes, ditches. Horses stumbled, riders speared. Rain of arrows unending. New machines flared, bizarre hooks shattered horse legs. Chaos split the riders.

In disbelief, Zhao whispered: “They… they fight the Hu as equals.”

Even the Hu leader reeled in shock. Never had border peasants stopped them so. When he wheeled to retreat, a shout rang:

“The bandit chief flees! Catch him!”

Like wolves, the Qiuquan folk rushed, dragging him off saddle. Pinned to earth, fire lit his rugged features. He spat guttural Yonghua (official speech): “Release me! Or my tribe will cut you to dust!”

Shen Qinghe set a boot upon his skull.

“Speak sense, friend. This is a new season.”

And the great Hu war-chief, roaring, was bound and dragged away.

—

By dawn, the sky pale, blood awash upon grass, but cheers broke like flame.

They had done it. They beat the Hu.

Before today, victory over nomads was rumor. But now—they lived it, breath on blade, captives in tow.

They cheered, energy endless, though drained of blood. Truly—they had won!

Shen stayed through the night watch, ignoring calls to rest. Inwardly he knew: this had been no ordinary raid. Next time, retribution may be fiercer. But for now—let them celebrate, let uneasy hearts bond in triumph. Tomorrow’s storms must wait.

—

“Governor!”

Zhao Jinshan came, panting, flanked by his retainers.

“Merchant Zhao.” Shen smiled lightly. “Dangerous field for you. You are not hurt, I hope?”

“Not hurt, not hurt—in your protection, how could I be?” Zhao Jinshan gushed, shivering still.

He forced laughter.

“Unexpected peril tonight—but having witnessed your valor, I have thought long. Better I attach myself to you. Business is poor on my own—but under your grace, perhaps I may still eat.” His small eyes squeezed with fake humility.

Shen bent slightly, smiling down into his forced grin.

“Good. But you’ll discuss with Assistant Xue here. I’m off shift.” He massaged his temples, waved broadly.

“Assistant Xue, kindly draft the contract and leave it on my desk. When I rise, I’ll want it finished.”

Xue Bufan’s eye twitched, smile forced iron. “…You may speak with me.”

Footnotes

1. “Fish on the chopping board (刀俎之魚肉)” – A Chinese idiom: to be at someone’s mercy, as meat beneath knife. Here inverted by Shen: “who is knife, who is flesh—yet to be known.” 
2. Yue Clan (越氏) – A paragon of great aristocratic families, symbol of unchecked power in the empire. Shen bluffed ties as shield. 
3. Beacon Fires – Fire signals lit from towers in border commanderies to warn of invasion. 
4. Fire-Tube (early musket) – In text, a black-powder weapon of crude gunpowder tech, like hand-cannon. Anachronism blending modern knowledge into ancient. 
5. “New season” remark – Shen mocking the Hu leader, framing it like a “new game round/season,” a darkly comic modern reference he alone understands.