026 Assassinating Chiang

Forbidden City, Palace of Heavenly Purity.

Sony whispered, reading aloud:
"Commander Jiang of the Southern City Constabulary requests the Imperial Court to allocate 150,000 taels of silver, 800 soldiers and yamen runners, 200 medical practitioners, 1,000 laborers, and 50 imperial physicians. Additionally, 50 types of medicinal herbs totaling 70,000 catties are required, along with two military camps and 1,000 sets of cooking utensils and furniture. The estimated duration is six months."

"Sony, do you believe he can achieve this?"
"This slave dares not say."
"Speak freely."
"The difficulty is immense, no less than the Battle of Songshan."
"Grant him everything except the imperial physicians."
"As you command."

Shunzhi truly hoped Jiang Qingyun would succeed. Yet, for some reason, the image of that girl singing by the railing surfaced in his mind again, refusing to fade. Youth was just like this—a helpless, lingering ache.

...

Meanwhile, Jiang Qingyun was rolling up his sleeves, ready to embark on his grand endeavor. To do big things, one must first hold big meetings! His subordinates, with whom he had grown increasingly familiar over this period, filled the main hall, their faces a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

He spoke loudly: "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Conducting mass variolation in the Southern City will benefit the nation, the people, and ourselves. Gentlemen, please share your thoughts."

The subordinates chattered among themselves.
"I fear the commoners will not understand and will avoid the procedure."
"I believe we must first conduct a census to have a clear grasp of the situation."
"I suggest we win over a small group first and let them serve as living proof."

Jiang Qingyun listened to every opinion with a smile. He had deliberately concealed one fact: the "Jiang-style inoculation" and the "Wu-style inoculation" were entirely different matters. Everyone believed they were implementing the "Wu-style" taught by the Imperial Academy, but in reality, they were administering the "Jiang-style." This misunderstanding was crucial; it provided the necessary room for Jiang Qingyun to execute his plan to break the deadlock.

...

Red slogans were plastered on both sides of the Heavenly Bridge. News that Magistrate Jiang was going to eradicate smallpox spread throughout the Southern City. Surprisingly, everyone believed it firmly, sharing the same sentiment as the tea stall owner.

A stage was set up at the Vegetable Market entrance, performing the play "Magistrate Jiang Subdues the Plague God with Three Lashes." An actor playing Jiang Qingyun, wielding a steel whip, beat the "Plague God" until he rolled on the ground. The audience cheered in unison, watching with great delight. In an age lacking entertainment, theater was the best form of propaganda.

In a tea house nearby, by a window, several core members of the Axe Gang whispered among themselves.

Yan Mou: "Had I known this, I shouldn't have saved him that day. By saving one man, tens of thousands in the Southern City will now perish."
"Big Brother, is the human variolation a lie?"
"Smallpox is a disaster sent by the heavens; how can it be prevented? He is deliberately purging the people of the Southern City."
"Is that Jiang man so deranged?"
"Hmph. Those who want to be masters of men never treat people as human beings. In the eyes of officials, the deaths of a thousand or ten thousand are just numbers. Watch for my signal—we shall act on behalf of Heaven and take him down."

...

Half an hour later.
Soldiers below the stage shouted: "Magistrate Jiang arrives!"

Despite the summer heat, Jiang Qingyun strode onto the stage wearing his cotton-padded armor. He gestured for silence, then pulled back a red cloth to reveal a statue underneath.

"Pay respects to Guan Gong."
"Kneel."
Jiang Qingyun took the lead, his demeanor pious. The high monks of Chongfu Temple sat in a row on cushions, chanting sutras. The solemnity of the atmosphere was enough to instill awe.

The Axe Gang assassins felt quite awkward. Firstly, since everyone else was kneeling, if they stood up and approached, they would be immediately exposed. Secondly, their target was heavily armored. Yan Mou quietly looked up at the stage, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

...

"The prayer is finished. Rise."
"Please, Master, draw the lot!"

The dignified Monk Tianji, draped in a kasaya, shook the bamboo tube in his hand. The commoners were so nervous they dared not blink until a wooden slip fell from the shaking tube onto the stage. Everyone craned their necks, and those who were literate shouted:

"Great Fortune! It is the best possible lot!"

Instantly, everyone’s confidence soared. In this world, when faced with disaster, to whom could the common people turn if not to the gods?

...

"The first round of variolation begins now!"
"Those willing, come up yourselves. It is free! The first batch is limited to only 50 people. We are using the divine prescription from the Imperial Academy's Chief Physician—something you couldn't get even if you had the money."

Deputy Commander Zhao Zesheng shouted with great passion, as if he were selling miracle pills on the street.

"I’ll do it."
"Count me in."

The first people to "eat the crab" stepped forward. These were all pre-arranged—activists who had stepped forward during the previous public trial, or relatives of the Constabulary staff—all absolutely reliable.

The Axe Gang members squeezed into the crowd, pushing further and further forward. Their leader, Yan Mou, wiped his face, hunched his back slightly, and walked with a dragging gait, silently following the others onto the platform.

...

A small ball of cotton soaked in moist "mature scabs" was gently inserted into a nostril. Wu Yong explained on the spot:

"Take it out after sunset. Then rest peacefully at home for ten days. The Smallpox Deity will then be within you, and you will never, ever contract smallpox again."

His ancestral "variolation method" actually had a failure rate of about five to ten percent, nowhere near the forty percent horror mentioned in the Imperial Court. He simply did not want the Forbidden City's "variolation" plan to take root. Even a five percent failure rate was unacceptable, let alone one percent—how could one guarantee that the one percent wouldn't include the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, or the Empress?

This was a political issue, not a medical one. However, it didn't matter for the commoners of the Southern City; the failure rate was just a number.

...

"Magistrate Jiang, the medicine is not enough."
"Did we not agree to prepare 50 portions?"
"But 55 people have come up."
"The enthusiasm of the Southern City people exceeds my expectations."

Before the words had faded, Jiang Qingyun’s eyes locked with a man on the stage. *Oh, damn it.*

"Guards!"

It happened in a flash. Yan Mou threw a sharp axe, and Jiang Qingyun drew his sword.

*Clang!*

The axe hit the sword first, then struck the cotton-padded armor. Seeing their leader's strike fail, the underlings quickly moved to follow up. Two more axes whistled past his ears, but Jiang Qingyun dodged them all. He retreated rapidly, shouting:

"My lady, protect me!"

...

Chaos erupted on and off the stage—screams, running, and roaring. Several soldiers who had climbed onto the stage were intercepted by the Axe Gang members. Yan Mou rushed toward Jiang Qingyun, his yellow helmet and armor making him stand out conspicuously.

Suddenly, an arrow pierced the air, swift as lightning, grazing Yan Mou’s forehead. Blood flowed instantly, turning his vision into a blurry, crimson haze. In the distance, Jiang Nan drew another arrow.

...

Jiang Qingyun recovered from his shock. Relying on his full armor, he strode forward with his sword. *While you're blind, I'll take your life!*

"Leader, retreat!" two Axe Gang members shouted.

Yan Mou did not hesitate; he jumped off the platform and vanished into the frantic crowd. Jiang Qingyun, still in his armor, easily cut down the two men who tried to block him.

"My lady! Shoot him down!"

Jiang Nan, dressed as a common Green Standard Army soldier, held his breath and pulled his bowstring to a full moon. The sharp arrowhead tracked the fleeting figure of the bandit leader in the crowd.

*Whoosh!*

An arrow flew into the throng.