Chapter Thirty-Six: The Battle at the Mine

After descending the mountain, they roused the brothers lying in the hollow, and more than three hundred men set out once again, turning their steps eastward. According to Tang Yulin’s account, Yang Xiaolin made a rough estimate—the Russians at the mine numbered about two hundred, and since they were not regular troops, he felt confident in his chances.

Yang Xiaolin had no idea that the mine was now one of the Russian army’s logistical supply bases during their campaign against Feng Delin. Inside the mine, there were not only over a hundred Russian guards, but five li away there was a Russian military camp housing a thousand frontline soldiers of the Russian Far East Corps.

Moreover, within the mine were more than five thousand Chinese laborers. Among them, over two hundred Chinese, considered friendly by the Russians, had also been armed. These men served as the Russians’ lackeys—bullying their fellow countrymen by day and bowing and scraping before the Russians by night, all for a life slightly better than that of the other Chinese there.

Additionally, several hundred Russians who had come to Northeast China to "seek gold" had chosen this place as their temporary refuge, counting on its safety. There were men and women, young and old, from all corners of Russia. Yet, should the Chinese attack, every one of them would not hesitate to take up arms.

Domlikshava, too, had come from distant Moscow. Her purpose was to retrieve her father’s ashes. He had fought valiantly against the Chinese, and after the war, he wrote to her, saying he was about to be promoted. But fate took a cruel turn: her poor father fell in a surprise attack by Chinese bandits, just as victory seemed assured.

Domlikshava’s heart brimmed with bitter hatred for these Chinese bandits—they had robbed her of her loving father, shattering the happiness of her life. She was seventeen, with thirteen days left before her eighteenth birthday, which she had been preparing to celebrate.

She was as lovely as a porcelain doll. In the happier days, her life was full of song and laughter; her slender form and sweet voice would draw young men to lay bouquets of flowers at her feet whenever she sang. All of this was cruelly upended in a moment by a single telegram.

Her father was dead, and her mother, unrestrained, now lived openly with her lover. Domlikshava could no longer bear to see them and so embarked on the long journey to China.

This innocent young woman had no intention of returning. The Russian commander treated her with great care, and the charming Russian youths buzzed around her like bees, tending to her every need. Domlikshava wished to take up arms like those young men, to fight against the bandits who had killed her father.

But the commander flatly refused. He believed that war was a man’s business, and that a woman’s place was to pray for their victory before meals.

He stationed her at the mine, set her to keeping the accounts, and found a Chinese tutor to teach her the language. The commander felt that, during his lifetime, Mr. Chiedebrov had served him faithfully; now that his daughter had arrived, she deserved a good arrangement. It was, after all, a gesture for the benefit of his still-living subordinates.

The commander believed that such a beautiful girl did not belong on the battlefield—guns and cannons were no fit companions for her fair hands. Russia was expanding its embassy in Beijing’s Legation Quarter, and he thought she would be better suited to a clerical post there.

Domlikshava knew all too well what those so-called clerical posts meant—mere playthings for the Russian dignitaries. Though she protested many times, the commander was resolute. He told her that if she would not accept his arrangements, he could provide her with extra compensation and send her home.

But going back to Russia meant the same fate: her soon-to-be stepfather would marry her off to his slightly lame nephew. At last, Domlikshava understood—now that the father who shielded her from the storms was gone, her life was like a leaf adrift on a stream, no longer her own to command.

“Damn the Chinese!” Each time she thought of her predicament, her heart spat the most venomous curses.

Crack! A sharp gunshot shattered the valley’s peace. Before Domlikshava could react, gunfire erupted outside, and the shrill alarm sounded from the mine’s watchtower.

She hurriedly pushed open her door and saw the guards arming themselves, each man sprinting to his post. Others were hastily herding the Chinese laborers into the barracks.

Domlikshava grabbed a young Russian—he was Ukrainian, named Lirdyev. He had not intended to stop, but her sweet voice made him pause. “Bandits have come,” he said. “They’re trying to force their way through our gate. Listen, you’d best stay in your room—bullets don’t care who they hit!”

A sudden thrill ran through Domlikshava. The Chinese bandits had come? Whether or not they were her father’s killers, they all deserved to die!

Lirdyev turned to leave, but she seized him again. Though a little annoyed, he could not bring himself to be angry with such a beautiful girl. He shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t let me go at night, I’d be delighted—but not now.”

Domlikshava’s eyes were wide. “Do you have an extra gun? Give me one—I want to fight the bandits too.”

He almost doubted his own ears, but after a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head. “That’s not a good idea. I hope you’ll stay inside your room.”

Her gaze was resolute. “Give me a gun.”

Finding no way out, the young man glanced around to be sure no one was watching. He pulled a pistol from behind his back and pressed it into her hand, whispering, “Give it back tonight—I’ll come to your room for it.”

Domlikshava nodded without a second thought.

But Lirdyev was delighted. For such a beautiful girl to open her door to him at night—who knew what unexpected pleasures might await?

The gunfire outside grew fiercer. Pistol in hand, Domlikshava headed toward the sound. She soon saw the mine boss on a platform, shouting orders frantically: “Hurry! Drive those Qing pigs into the pens—quick!”

It was the middle of the workday. The mine boss knew that if the thousands of Chinese laborers inside rose up together, it would all be over for him. So, even with defenses stretched thin and the bandits closing in, he dared not relax his hold over the Chinese.

“All Russians, take up your arms! Everyone—do you hear me?” the mine boss shouted. Domlikshava saw a blood-soaked Russian being carried down from the front, groaning in agony on a stretcher. The sight made her hands shake uncontrollably, the gun suddenly feeling impossibly heavy.

“Kabanov! The bandits have machine guns and grenades! We can’t hold the front—they need reinforcements!”

A burly Russian roared at the mine boss.

“I’ve already called the army—they’re on their way!” the mine boss replied at once. “Listen to me—don’t fall back, not a step! If you retreat, we’re all dead! Those Qing pigs will eat us alive!”