Chapter Forty-Nine: Is There Enough to Eat, Enough to Seize?

Akberil quickly pulled her into his arms. “Child, don’t be so upset. I know it’s hard for you to accept the truth right now, but that’s the reality. Think about it: if we told the truth to the Russian citizens back home, these six hundred Russian soldiers would receive no pensions, and their families would be unable to accept it, just as you are now.”

Domlikshava burst into tears. She had wanted to cry for a long time—ever since she received the news of her father’s death, the world seemed to have become unbearably tragic. There had still been a shadow of strength to cling to, but now even that had collapsed.

General Akberil, like a gentle old man, took out a handkerchief and softly wiped Domlikshava’s tears. “I know that telling you the truth hurts you deeply. Child, go to the commander. Sometimes, we must speak lies to comfort the widows. I’ll send a squad of soldiers to escort you. No one will harm you again. Those who hurt you, those who committed heinous crimes against our Russian citizens, must pay the price!”

He seemed to speak the last words more to himself than to her. Watching the girl climb into the carriage with the soldiers, a weight lifted from his heart. Turning away, he transformed from a kindly elder into a stern officer. “All right, my lads! Now it’s time to set out, to find those bandits and wipe them out! Let them see what a real Russian army is, let them pay in blood! Only then can we wash away our shame!”

Two thousand Russian soldiers raised their rifles in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, their momentum overwhelming.

Yang Xiaolin’s grievance assembly was equally successful. At first, the villagers were hesitant, and the bandits seemed indifferent. Grievances? In these times, everyone suffered; they all had their own troubles with nowhere to vent. Hearing others complain, what difference did it make?

That was their initial thought. But when the villagers truly began to pour out their sorrows in tears and snot, something struck deep within the bandits—the stories were all too familiar, echoing their own lives. Why did misfortune always repeat itself with such cruel similarity?

Gradually, they began to see those standing on stage as their own kin, feeling their pain as their own. They realized they were the ones who had stood by helplessly as women were taken and brothers slaughtered, believing they could endure just a little longer.

Some silently wept. Others gripped their freshly issued rifles tightly. Some let out choked sobs. Their faces were filled with grief and rage. Though they spoke little, the atmosphere in the assembly felt ready to erupt at any moment.

When the meeting ended, those originally ordered to help rebuild the villagers’ homes sprang into action. They went back, repairing the houses, making up for the shortcuts they’d taken earlier. They refilled the water jars, chopped extra firewood, fashioned furniture from scraps, or wove toys from bamboo for the children.

As they left, they all, without prior agreement, left some of their own grain behind—on the stove, in a basket. Just as at home, it was easy to get by alone, but more important to leave enough for one’s family.

Yang Xiaolin watched with satisfaction, a faint smile on his face. He knew that the first time these men did such things, they’d feel awkward, even fear it being mentioned later. Their actions were driven by a surge of emotion and impulse.

No matter. After a few more times, it would become second nature. And once it was habit, they would understand why they fought.

Sui Bing and Biaozi ran over from the side. As they reached Yang Xiaolin, they nudged each other with their shoulders. Yang Xiaolin knew they must have something to say, probably about helping the villagers. Only such matters would make them pass the responsibility between each other.

“What is it? Speak.”

Since neither wanted to start, he simply asked. Sui Bing pressed his shoulder against Biaozi, pushing him forward. Biaozi flushed slightly. “Chief, the brothers discussed it and feel that each company giving only twenty pounds of grain is far too little. Divided among the villagers, each family gets just two or three pounds—not enough for a few days. We were wondering if you could give a bit more?”

Yang Xiaolin glanced at him. For someone like Biaozi to show sympathy—this truly surprised him. The grievance assembly had worked even better than he’d hoped. Everyone’s heart held both good and evil; how true those words proved to be.

Biaozi misunderstood Yang Xiaolin’s look, hurriedly adding, “Chief, this should have been discussed with Secretary Kong—oh, sorry, Staff Officer Kong—but everyone knows he’s stingy. You’re the one who’s thoughtful. The brothers said we could eat less ourselves, it’s no problem.”

Yang Xiaolin smiled. “Biaozi, are you saying we should leave enough grain for the villagers to get through winter?”

Biaozi nodded eagerly. “Yes, I checked their rice jars. They’re full of roots and bark, Chief—these are elderly and children!”

Yang Xiaolin said, “I don’t object to leaving them enough to eat. But tell me, Biaozi, if they have enough, will it get stolen?”

Biaozi and Sui Bing were stunned. Enough to eat—will it get stolen? They had never considered this. Yang Xiaolin’s words brought instant clarity: the villagers’ biggest problem now was that too many people were robbing them.

“Tell the brothers to handle this as they see fit. But don’t skimp on your own rations. Eat your fill, then drive out the bandits who are worse than we are. That’s the real way to help the villagers!”

Biaozi nodded vigorously. “Chief, I understand.”

Yang Xiaolin patted his shoulder. “We’ll rest today. Hurry and teach the new recruits how to shoot. There’s no time for formal training, so figure something out.”

A smile broke over Biaozi’s face. “Chief, which bandit ever learned to shoot from someone else? Just grab a gun and figure out how to fire it. We won’t be accurate at first, but don’t worry, the more we shoot, the better we’ll get.”

Yang Xiaolin dragged him over. “I gave you these men so you could lead them! Don’t be lazy!”

He intended to train this force into a proper unit. Today they learned to shoot; later, they would learn bayonet fighting and tactics! If Biaozi was already cutting corners, how could he trust him to train an entire company in the future?

Biaozi didn’t dare say more, laughed it off, and hurried away. He and his men respected Yang Xiaolin now. Even if he thought shooting needed no training, he’d do as Yang Xiaolin ordered.

Back with his company, he gathered the men. “Brothers, assemble! Get your guns! Today, I’m teaching you how to shoot. Each platoon, line up behind your platoon leader!”

The formation was ragged and loose, but Biaozi didn’t mind. If they formed an impressive square right away, he’d be more startled.

End of page.