Chapter Fifty-Eight: Wang Village

Wangzhuang lay on the northern bank of the midstream Xichuan River, where the borders of three counties converged.

Liu Chengzong and his companions traveled westward along the river. Every village they passed was desolate and withered, ruined cave dwellings and collapsed walls everywhere, with traces of arson still visible.

In less than ten miles, he encountered two bands of refugees fighting fiercely over pottery scavenged from the ruins.

He also saw a few beggars, kowtowing along the roadside.

Once, he heard the faint cries for help of a woman from within the rubble, but by the time he spurred his horse over, the nursing mother was already dead, her baby clinging to life, its little face turned green with hunger in swaddling clothes.

The sight was unbearable; they mounted and rode on by instinct.

After thirty paces, Liu Chengzong covered his face and cursed, “Damn it all!”

The four men sprang into action, running back to the ruins. Liu Chengzong picked up the baby, Cao Yao kicked apart a broken door, and Liu Chengzu started a fire.

Cai Zhongpan galloped off, bartering a flat cake for a pot and bowl, then scared off some greedy refugees with his musket.

They managed to boil only half a small cake.

It was enough—the child survived.

Amidst the baby's vigorous cries, they resumed their journey, and only then did they realize the Xichuan River had not dried up.

A dirt dam stretched across the river, green trees growing beside it. Hanging from their branches were dried corpses, heads still dangling, entrails spilling onto the ground, where a heap of skulls lay, crawling with fat maggots. At the edge stood a stele, two vermilion characters inscribed upon it.

Wang’s Fields.

The characters gleamed blood-red against the yellow earth.

On both riverbanks, golden fields stretched to the horizon. The villagers no longer planted millet, but wheat, which grew splendidly.

For reasons he could not explain, Liu Chengzong did not recognize a single skull among the pile, yet stubbornly felt he ought to.

Just days ago, these people would have been called rebel bandits, grouped with those who had broken into the Black Dragon Mountain. But months or even years before, they had another name.

Common folk.

The headman of Wangzhuang, not needing to collect heads as proof of merit, left them here to terrify the vagrants.

The four men sat astride their horses before the stele for a long while.

Liu Chengzong could not know what the others were thinking. He only wished to gaze a while longer at the ripening wheat fields.

It had been a long time since he’d seen such a heartening sight.

He believed that even his upright father, if he saw such beauty, would be moved to slaughter all the stewards of Wangzhuang.

Finally, Liu Chengzu broke the silence: “This dam is well made. No one downstream, and if we use gunpowder on the eastern side, no one will report it to the authorities.”

Cao Yao remarked, “That’d take a lot of powder. We’d need to dig down, and a single night wouldn’t be enough. Let’s head for the hills instead; no need to go further. The child keeps crying, and if we linger, we’ll attract attention.”

Liu Chengzu laughed, “Dig a tunnel for what? You attacking a fortress? No one’s defending the walls. Just blow off the back gate from the main entrance. I don’t believe Wangzhuang’s using an iron portcullis.”

They crossed from the northern to the southern bank, led their horses up the undulating slopes, and at last beheld the fortress that Song Shouzhen had described as unassailable.

Liu Chengzong had but one thought: wealth is a fine thing. This was no mere earthen wall—it was a true stronghold.

The fortress backed against a cliff, with high walls on three sides and a southern gate. At each corner stood a reinforced tower, making it resemble a small city of four hundred paces in circumference.

To the west outside the walls lay an orchard, to the east a drying yard, and before the south gate a broad open space, all three sides surrounded by moats. Fortunately, even with the dam, the Xichuan River had not filled them with water, and the approach to the moat had also been blocked by the dam.

The walls rose more than twenty feet, making climbing nearly impossible, and were faced with brick. Even tunneling beneath to blast open a breach would require an intimidating amount of gunpowder.

From outside, the place was daunting.

But viewed from above, the walls were not as thick as they appeared—perhaps a yard wide at the base, five feet at the top.

The actual height was about fourteen feet; the remaining eight feet were a thin wooden wall to defend against arrows, with loopholes every few paces.

Cao Yao frowned, “A tough nut to crack. Chengzu is right: we can only blast the gate, but there’s a second gate inside. Do we blow it up again?”

Within, the fortress was divided into front and rear courtyards. The forecourt contained a well and a rainwater pool, with a dozen servant quarters and pigsties and stables to either side. The carved archway facing the main gate had a high wall, and the main entrance itself was stout.

It looked freshly constructed—either just painted or replaced in fear after the strongmen of the grain management team had besieged Wangzhuang.

The granary must lie under the mountain, likely a cave or cellar to prevent spoilage.

Liu Chengzu pointed to the cliff behind the fortress, “Couldn’t we climb down from there?”

“The mountain isn’t that high—it’s possible,” Cao Yao replied, “but it’s still twenty-odd yards, and if there’s a single sentry, anyone descending would be a sitting duck.”

Then he called, “Lion, what are you up to? If we’re heading up, just say so from behind… What are you drawing?”

Only then did he notice Liu Chengzong had taken out paper and brush, sketching the stronghold’s layout. He leaned over for a look. “Hey, that’s not half bad!”

In truth, the drawing was mediocre, but another memory guided his hand, so it went swiftly enough.

Without looking up, he said, “I used to think ten men would be enough to take an earthen wall. Now it seems even ten won’t do; we’d need more to control the outer villages.”

“What’s the point?” said Cao Yao lightly. “Set a fire, and they’ll be too busy saving their own skins to bother with us.”

Liu Chengzong set down his brush, swept his gaze over the surrounding villages, and said earnestly, “These are all wretched folk. Let’s not make their lives harder—those houses have already burned once.”

Traces of fire lingered in the villages outside the fortress, likely from the last siege by the grain management squad.

Yet for those men, this fortress was truly impregnable.

They had numbers, but their approach would be seen at once, and without heavy firepower, even two or three hundred armed, starving peasants would be dreaming to think they could storm the place.

That dam had surpassed even Liu Chengzu’s expectations. Liu Chengzong could sense a shift in his brother’s attitude after seeing that field of golden grain.

Now, Liu Chengzu crouched at the cliff’s edge, racking his brains over the fortress. Suddenly, he said, “What about a feint? We have military uniforms and know the signals—pose as Yan’an garrison delivering news of bandits. Then a team descends from the cliff.”

He turned, delighted by the thought. “Or we sneak up quietly, blow open the main gate, and when the garrison rushes forward, others drop in behind to seize the steward’s residence and capture him.”

Liu Chengzong added, “Block the front gate to prevent escape, disarm them, and the fortress is ours.”

Such imaginings were pleasing, though they required too many coincidences to be truly feasible.

In the end, one must always prepare for the worst.

Liu Chengzong nearly finished his sketch. “I’ll mark out the place,” he told the others. “Let’s look it over again, and if nothing else needs our attention, we can scout the retreat route and find some hidden granaries. We won’t be able to carry it all away in a day.”

Just then, Cai Zhongpan, who had been silent, remarked, “Hey, do you see those people on the opposite mountain? I think they’re after the same thing we are.”

The three others looked, searching the woods for a long while before spotting a few furtive figures, who soon vanished into the mountain.

They were not the only ones eyeing Wangzhuang.

They would have to strike quickly!