They ran closer and saw the crowd of onlookers outside the police cordon. All they could see was that the Chinese onlookers were furiously shouting at the police enforcing martial law, “Why did you shoot? Why did you shoot? He already threw away the knife, so why did you still shoot? Was it just because he took your police hostage in a brothel and exposed your police’s true face?”

“Do third-class citizens not have human rights?”

……

The streetwalkers who rushed over had no idea what had happened.

“A soldier was killed…” Someone was being escorted out of the Bangkok Royal Palace under police protection. A local blond foreigner in gray-blue dress pants—he was a first-class citizen—was being closely guarded by two armed police officers in bulletproof vests with “police” printed on them as he was evacuated from inside. There was a dark patch at his crotch—he had wet himself.

He ran toward the police line, talking as he ran: “The first shot came from outside the window, hit the soldier right in the heart—maybe it was off a bit, the soldier didn’t die. The police rushed in to rescue the hostages, and the soldier, knowing the police wouldn’t let him live, started killing. His hands were empty, nothing at all, just strangled throats—one squeeze and you’d hear a crisp snap and it was broken. The police who rushed in were stunned, saw him kill two people in a row, and only then snapped out of it and tried to shoot. The soldier was shot seven or eight times at close range, killed two more people, and only then fell to the ground. Even after falling, he reached back and broke another person’s throat. The police who rushed in didn’t dare stop shooting until they’d emptied their magazines. When the soldier was dying, he said to the police who’d rushed in to rescue the hostages: ‘Every injustice has its perpetrator, every debt its debtor—I don’t kill at random.’ Damn, he was a killing star—shot multiple times and still killed five people barehanded. He must have been special forces! These days, if you mess with anyone, don’t mess with a soldier! I heard he immigrated here two years ago after leaving the service, a bit out of practice, damn, damn!”

Volume One: Mountain and Sea Pirates

Chapter One: Autumn Waters, Sunset, Faint Zither Music

Cold rain poured violently onto the earth all day, only letting up at dusk, with a few drops still drifting down.

Throughout the entire autumn of the eighth year of Chongguan, Baisha County in Weiyang Prefecture, Jiangdong, could not escape such torrential rains.

Countless homes collapsed in the downpour, the water on the county town’s streets was deep enough for boats to sail, and in early September, even a section of the southern city wall was washed away by the rain, leaving a huge, ugly gap. In the past two days, the sky seemed to have torn open a little, letting up just enough for Baisha County to catch its breath. But there was flooding everywhere, and the water couldn’t drain away quickly. The Baishui River outside the county had become a hanging river, with the floodwaters nearly overtopping the embankment. If the northern Qinghe Town hadn’t breached its own embankment over ten days ago, the county town might have already been flooded by the Baishui River.

The disaster relief camp was set up on Fentou Mountain inside the river embankment outside the city. The mountain was an earthen hill, over ten zhang high, shaped like a giant grave without a grave cap, with the elegant name of Womei Mountain. There were hardly any trees or grass, just bare earth, and the locals were used to calling it Fentou Mountain.

A tall young official, wearing a black gauze cap and a blue round-collared official robe, paid no mind to the muddy road underfoot as he walked toward the disaster relief camp on Fentou Mountain.

The arrival of the chief official at the Baisha relief camp immediately caused a stir, and many ragged disaster victims crowded around.

“Mr. Brooks is here, now there’s hope.”

“His Excellency won’t let everyone starve to death.”

“Who is Mr. Brooks? So it’s him.”

……

The young official was none other than the prefect of Weiyang, William Brooks. He was well-known and respected by the people as Mr. Brooks. During the She family rebellion in Jin’an Prefecture that swept through East Min, William Brooks was the registrar of Xianxia County in northern East Min. When the rebels attacked, the original county magistrate of Xianxia was a coward, only thinking of surrendering the city to save his own life. William Brooks gathered the yamen runners and county folk, locked up the magistrate, closed the city, and held out, blocking the rebels from invading western Zhejiang. After more than a month of siege, the She family rebels gave up and withdrew. Later, William Brooks served under the Minister of War in Jiangning and the Governor of East Min, David Thompson, earning many military merits. The She family rebellion in East Min dragged on for years without being fully suppressed, and both the court and David Thompson, who was in charge of pacifying the southeast, began to consider negotiating with the She family. William Brooks disagreed with the others and left the army to return to civil service, being transferred to Weiyang Prefecture as prefect this spring.

After a few days of clear weather, there were still a few raindrops drifting down at dusk. William Brooks hurried along, unconcerned about the light rain falling on his face. Baisha County magistrate Samuel Foster and William Brooks’s old colleague from East Min, Henry Clark, followed half a step behind.

“Zhiru, when will the second batch of grain from Jiangning arrive?” William Brooks asked.

Not only Baisha County in Weiyang Prefecture was affected by the disaster; the grain and funds needed for relief had to be allocated from Jiangning, the secondary capital.

The founding emperor of this dynasty established his base in Jiangning, and after his rise, made it the capital. During the reign of the second emperor, to defend against the Donghu and other northern tribes, the capital was moved to Yanjing, with Jiangning becoming the secondary capital. Jiangning still retained the Six Ministries, the Imperial Academy, the Hanlin Academy, and other central bureaucratic institutions, nominally on par with those in Yanjing, but with far less real power. Since the founding emperor’s tomb, Zhaoling, was in Jiangning, the idle officials appointed there were called tomb guardians. Even so, for over two hundred years, Jiangning Prefecture had always been the political, military, and economic center of the empire’s south.

Samuel Foster said, “I just received an urgent message—the disaster relief grain started being loaded onto ships in Jiangning last night. The ships should have set out by noon today and should arrive here by tomorrow morning.”

“Good. What’s the casualty situation?”