"Bandits are coming!"
A scout flew back into Bai Family Fort at breakneck speed.
(In the Ming dynasty, 'flying back' wasn't just metaphor—scouts on mountain patrols developed a distinctive running style: short, rapid steps with arms extended for balance, looking less like soldiers and more like panicked pheasants.)
This scout was named Shi Jian, a member of the Gao Village militia. He was one of the two men who had followed the private salt smugglers Old Zhu and Old Zhang during the last battle to learn the ropes of scouting.
(Salt smugglers made ideal scout trainers. Their livelihood depended on spotting patrols from li away, reading terrain like scholars read classics, and disappearing into landscapes that seemed bare to everyone else.)
After training in the previous skirmish, he was starting to look the part.
Cheng Xu poked his head over the fort wall. "Details."
Shi Jian hastily reported, "Dian Dengzi, the captain of the second unit under Bu Zhan Ni, is leading about... two thousand? Three thousand? Ah, anyway, around that many men. They're already very close to us."
Cheng Xu was caught between laughter and exasperation. The scout was still green, his report a complete mess. Fortunately, Cheng Xu could roughly guess the enemy's location.
(Military reports in Ming-era militias were famously unreliable. A 'thousand men' could mean eight hundred or three thousand—counting was less important than conveying 'more than we can comfortably handle.')
He looked up toward the hillside. At the edge of his vision, on the crest of that hill, he could just make out a few figures.
Bai Yuan stepped up beside him, pointing to the same spot. "Probably right there."
"Mmm." Cheng Xu nodded.
Bai Yuan chuckled. "Exactly the same route Bu Zhan Ni took last time. Once they come down the mountain into the flying weapon's range, I'll blast them to pieces with the celestial projectile."
Cheng Xu couldn't help but recall the scene of the last battle here, a faint smile tugging at his lips—unfortunately hidden behind his face covering.
He stared intently at the hillside for a long moment: the slopes, behind trees, behind rocks... not a single place revealed Granny's presence. None! Absolutely none!
Granny hadn't come this time, hahaha! This battle was as good as won.
"Huh? Someone's coming down the mountain," Bai Yuan said. "Look, only three bandits are descending."
Cheng Xu focused. It was true. Only three bandits were coming down. The one in the lead was actually wearing a scholar's long robe, stumbling awkwardly as he walked. He clearly wasn't used to mountain paths, relying entirely on the two men beside him to support him as he practically slid down the trail.
(The scholar's robe—the shenyi—was both status symbol and liability. Its straight cut and floor-length hem were designed for pavilion strolls, not mountain slopes. A true scholar in bandit territory was either very brave, very stupid, or not what he appeared.)
Bai Yuan and Cheng Xu exchanged a puzzled glance. "What's going on here?"
In this situation, of course they couldn't just attack. The celestial projectile, catapults, giant crossbows—all remained silent, not firing a single shot. Everyone simply watched as the three bandits crept along slowly. At one point, the robed leader nearly tripped, the two men beside him quickly steadying him.
Once the man regained his footing, they continued, finally reaching the base of Bai Family Fort.
Cheng Xu and Bai Yuan were dumbfounded. "Is this guy here to perform comedy?"
The robed man stopped before the fort gate, raised his head, and called out loudly, "This humble one dares to ask: which esteemed master of Chengcheng County does this fortress belong to?"
Bai Yuan leaned out. "My surname is Bai, given name Yuan."
The robed man cupped his hands in salute. "So it is Lord Bai of Bai Family Fort. This humble one is Dian Dengzi. I pay my respects."
Everyone was taken aback. Dian Dengzi—wasn't that the bandit leader?
Zhao Sheng felt somewhat embarrassed reporting his bandit alias instead of his real name in public. Awkwardly, he continued, "My deepest apologies for disturbing you, Lord Bai. It's just... I have three thousand brothers behind me. We've traveled a very long way to reach this place, and none of us have anything to eat. We're starving, nearly at our limit. Seeing Bai Family Fort from afar, it seemed to belong to a master of considerable means. So I gathered my courage to come and beg for some food to save my three thousand brothers. I implore you, Lord Bai, to be generous and assist us."
(The phrase 'three thousand brothers' was bandit rhetoric, but also practical psychology. A precise number like 2,847 would sound suspiciously exact. 'Three thousand' conveyed scale while leaving room for the truth: maybe 2,300 fighting men, plus women, children, and the elderly who followed rebel bands for survival.)
Cheng Xu snorted a laugh. "He's threatening us. First, he mentions his three thousand brothers. Then he asks for grain. If we don't give it, then his three thousand brothers will come charging over, right?"
Bai Yuan thought about it. Wasn't that exactly it?
But...
This man calling himself Dian Dengzi spoke with a tone of sincere earnestness. He didn't seem like someone making vicious threats.
"Instructor He, are you saying we should ignore him?"
"Of course we shouldn't ignore him! We should deal with him—severely." Cheng Xu touched the sword at his waist. "He only brought two men with him. His courage is outrageous. If I charge out now, capturing him will be easy. Once we seize the bandit leader, the rest won't be a concern. Let's see if he still dares to threaten us for grain."
"That's unwise." Bai Yuan shook his head. "I suspect this man isn't the true bandit leader at all, but a scholar the bandits captured to act as a messenger. If we attack this scholar, the bandits will have a perfect excuse to attack our fort."
Cheng Xu: "Huh? That makes sense! But... do bandits need an excuse to attack anyone?"
The logic got stuck there, unable to proceed.
(Actually, they often did. Peasant rebels operated in a gray area of legitimacy. A 'just grievance'—like a killed envoy—could turn reluctant followers into committed fighters, and more importantly, attract other bands to join their cause. Bandit politics were surprisingly bureaucratic.)
Just then, Dian Dengzi outside the fort spoke again: "Lord Bai, please do not misunderstand my words. I have not the slightest intention to threaten. I come with sincere earnestness to seek help. My three thousand brothers are all from good families. They are unwilling to rob common folk. We've traveled all the way from Qingjian County to this place. Our dry rations were finished long ago. We've been eating tree bark and grass roots for a long time now. We truly can't hold on much longer. Hunger turns men into monsters. One day, driven by starvation, they will raise their blades against other innocent commoners. When that day comes, even I won't be able to save them... I beg you, Lord Bai, to extend a helping hand and save them. They haven't committed any grave mistakes yet. They can still be saved."
His words were filled with utmost sincerity, his eyes brimming with tears.
(This wasn't pure theater. The Great Famine of the 1630s saw desperate peasants eating guanyin tu ('clay of Guanyin'), a fine, white soil that filled stomachs but caused slow, agonizing death. Against that backdrop, 'tree bark and grass roots' was almost luxurious.)
Cheng Xu couldn't help but frown.
Bai Yuan, however, listened and then waved his hand, declaring loudly, "Open the fort gates. Give him ten dan of grain."
Cheng Xu: "Huh? Master Bai, he's probably lying to us. You believe him?"
"This man doesn't seem like a villain to me," Bai Yuan said. "Better to believe and be wrong than to doubt and be wrong. If the Tianzun were here, he would also treat others with benevolence first. If the other party proves to be evil, then we raise our weapons against them."
Cheng Xu clicked his tongue a couple of times. He had seen plenty of scoundrels. Even before the three-year drought, he had dealt with all sorts of lowlifes. He didn't dare believe half a word from ruffians.
But since Bai Yuan chose to believe the man, Cheng Xu didn't object further. Bai Yuan's earlier words—"if the Tianzun were here"—reminded him of the Tianzun's consistently benevolent style.
It was just a bit of grain, after all.
The Tianzun always saved people first and asked questions later.
Following the Tianzun's way couldn't be wrong!
The gates of Bai Family Fort opened. Ten dan of grain were carried out and placed before Dian Dengzi.
(Ten dan ≈ 600kg. For context: a Ming soldier's monthly ration was about 0.9 dan. This 'generous gift' would feed 300 men for two days—or more likely, 3,000 men one thin porridge meal. But in famine economics, that one meal could stave off cannibalism for another week.)
Dian Dengzi was stunned. He hadn't expected the other side to give grain so readily. He had only brought two men down the mountain; they couldn't even carry ten dan back.
He quickly turned and waved frantically toward the hillside. "Ten men! Come down! Don't send more, absolutely no more than ten! Just ten! Come carry this grain back up the mountain."
(Bandit logistics: sending too many men might look like an attack, too few couldn't carry the grain, and any movement risked triggering an avalanche of hungry followers who'd swarm the fort and ruin the delicate negotiation. Zhao Sheng was walking a tightrope over a starving canyon.)
Ten able-bodied young men who still had some strength descended, shouldered the ten dan of grain, and with heaving grunts, carried it back up the hill.
Ten dan of grain wasn't much for three thousand men.
Even if they stretched it, it wouldn't last more than a few meals.
But in this year of famine, it was a considerable fortune.
Dian Dengzi bowed deeply toward Bai Family Fort. "Lord Bai, virtue shall be rewarded."
(The bow was significant—not the shallow nod of bandits, but the full 60-degree yili reserved for respected superiors. In that gesture, Zhao Sheng revealed more than he intended: this was no ordinary bandit, but a man who remembered his scholar's manners even in desperation.)
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[Historical Echo]
The real Zhao Sheng (赵胜), known as Dian Dengzi (点灯子 - "One Who Lights Lamps"), was indeed a scholar-turned-rebel during the late Ming peasant uprisings. Historical records describe him as "more inclined to books than blades," known for sparing civilians when possible—a relative moderates in a brutal conflict. His namesake came from his habit of reading late into the night by lamplight, even as a rebel commander. He would eventually be betrayed and killed in 1631, but his relatively merciful reputation lingered in local folklore.
Bai Yuan's gamble mirrors a real Ming dilemma: many gentry chose to provision rebel bands passing through their territories, calculating that grain was cheaper than rebuilt manor houses. Some survived the rebellion; others were executed by the Ming state for "aiding bandits." In the collapsing order of the 1630s, every moral choice was also a survival bet.