Chapter Nine

This year’s weather was somewhat unusual. After the autumn harvest, frequent rainfall swept across Zhili, Shanxi, Henan, as well as most parts of Anhui and Shandong, causing considerable trouble for subsequent planting and harvesting. The persistent rains especially interfered with the drying of rice—ordinarily not a major issue for farmers, but because the Han Army government had planned a war this year, this seemingly minor change nearly brewed into a political disaster.

After more than a year of rule, the vast rural regions of the capital district and Zhili had already accepted the legitimacy of Lin Feng’s fledgling government. To the farmers and commoners, the Han Army administration seemed even more favorable than the Kangxi regime; at least in 1684, Lin Feng generously abolished all taxes. Yet this goodwill was not particularly deep-rooted. The countryside of the seventeenth century was far darker than Lin Feng could imagine. He believed he had won many hearts, and that the poor laborers had benefited greatly. Soon, he discovered this was mere wishful thinking. In truth, last year’s “tax exemption” was not what he had envisioned.

For the peasants, the storms and politics of Beijing meant nothing. That momentous change of government, when filtered down to the tenant farmers and hired hands, amounted only to the cutting of a queue. The magistrate’s office remained unchanged; the landlord was still the landlord. They continued to toil, sweating into the earth for their sustenance. Lin Feng’s tax exemption benefited only the landlords and rich farmers. The only difference from the Qing era was the altered proportion of taxes and rents paid—he had no way to prevent those greedy landlords from raising rents and profiting. As a local warlord, Lin Feng lacked the courage to challenge their powerful class and merely let things drift. Still, there were some gains: now, the landlord class within Han Army territory mistakenly regarded this policy as a reward granted by the Han King.

Because of the weather, much of the harvested grain had not been properly dried. The Han Army, pressed by the imminence of war, accelerated its collection efforts. Between these pressures, farmers had no choice but to surrender damp grain—something the magistrates would not accept. Thus, conflict arose naturally. As the deadline for payment approached, Han Army officials grew frantic, while the peasants steadfastly refused to turn in overweight grain. Under relentless official coercion, some farmers around Baiyang Lake launched a “hide from the officials” movement, concealing their grain and escaping in boats deep into the reeds, refusing contact with tax collectors. Enraged, the officials organized yamen runners and strongmen for “clearing operations.” When armed clashes broke out, matters quickly spun out of control. After several skirmishes, the farmers began forging weapons and stockpiling grain in small settlements deep within Baiyang Lake, preparing for a prolonged standoff.

As the situation deteriorated rapidly, no one dared conceal it. By the time Lin Feng received the request for aid, thousands of rebels had gathered in the Baoding region. Once apprised, Beijing responded immediately. In Lin Feng’s mind, nothing was more terrifying than a peasant uprising. He was not afraid of Eight Banner troops or the Green Standard Army, nor did he fear Mongol cavalry, but he held peasant movements in awe—especially in these times when fires of unrest raged across the north.

A series of orders from Zhongnanhai set the Han Army administration and military into swift motion. That night, a courier sped out with orders—Baoding’s magistrate and responsible officials were stripped of their positions and summoned to the capital for questioning. Liu Laosui’s Second Army, stationed in Shunde, received orders from the general staff: the entire force was to move into Baiyang Lake. Lin Feng’s military directive to General Liu Laosui was exceptionally stern, referring to the ragtag rebels as “enemy forces” and demanding that the “enemy” be annihilated within two weeks.

Compared to the well-equipped, trained government troops, the hastily assembled rebel farmers were clearly unprepared for war. Beijing’s rapid response and swift deployment caught the rebels off guard. Past experience had taught them that it took months for officials to mobilize large forces. When the Second Army, in coordination with the new Baoding magistrate, sealed off the lake, the rebels realized their predicament. In the first days, they could have escaped through gaps in the Han Army’s incomplete encirclement, but misfortune struck: at that dangerous moment, the rebel leaders quarreled over command, sparking intense infighting. After a brief but fierce struggle, the victor secured the leadership, and the Second Army’s encirclement was complete.

With the government forces firmly established, rebels began surrendering in small groups. This did not prevent the militia and strongmen from slaughtering them. In truth, the rebel force was not strong—of the more than three thousand, nearly half were the old, weak, women, and children. After the earlier battles on water and land, the rebel main force was nearly destroyed. Disorganized, they resisted in scattered groups, tied together by bonds of kinship and friendship. Their leader, unfamiliar with the range of Han Army cannons and riding the largest fishing boat, was mortally wounded in the first barrage.

When Liu Laosui’s central force landed on the island, the battle was already out of control. Musketeers stood in neat ranks, staring in shock as their allied militia frantically butchered helpless elders and children—before the campaign, landlords had offered silver rewards for rebel heads. These men were in a frenzy; many openly raped women before the Han Army soldiers, and the wailing children elicited no compassion. The soldiers could hardly believe that these were the same honest farmers of only days earlier.

The slaughter ended the battle—over three thousand rebels perished, blood streaming across the island, staining its surface a deep brown. All buildings were dismantled to burn the bodies, and hours later, the troops hurriedly abandoned the blood-soaked island.

Unexpectedly, after the division of power, the new organizational framework was challenged by Li Guangdi. While the military police and intelligence units were accepted, Li Guangdi directed his criticism at Chen Menglei’s Censorate. The day after the restructuring was announced, Li Guangdi and his fellow civil officials submitted memorials strongly opposing the granting of such vast powers to the Censorate, citing the notorious precedents of the Ming dynasty’s Embroidered Uniform Guards and the Eastern and Western Factories. In fact, their suspicion was not unfounded—Lin Feng had indeed intended the institution to serve such a purpose. This kind of organization was necessary, yet under dictatorship, it was easily corrupted, becoming a threat to national security. In indecision, Lin Feng convened the senior officials of Beijing for discussion. After hours of debate and argument, the various factions of the Han Army’s government reached a political compromise: the Censorate’s powers were greatly curtailed, particularly its authority to arrest suspect officials. Without approval from the highest ranks of the civil government, it could only investigate and report.

With the dust settled, each faction reaped its share of benefits from the feast of power. Li Guangdi’s administrative system was safeguarded; Chen Menglei’s Censorate received two full regiments and was granted the “Inspector General’s Banner”; the General Staff’s proposal for forming second-line troops was reluctantly approved. Originally, the General Staff had no part in this matter, but Zhou Peigong, inspired by his experience in suppressing the rebels, saw the value of militia forces as useful supplements to the government army, especially given current manpower shortages. The sole issue was whether the government could control them. To take them out of landlords’ hands would require providing pay and supplies, which the fragile finances of the Han Army could not sustain. Under these constraints, Zhou Peigong proposed the “Officer Control Method”—within Han territory, landlords were absolutely forbidden to have private armies. Instead, suitable men would be conscripted by region and population density to form “Han Militia.” These forces belonged to local clans and landlords, remained engaged in production, could serve as house guards or enforcers, and take orders from clan elders—such as punishing immoral behavior with traditional methods. Aside from prohibiting large, unauthorized gatherings, the government would not interfere. They would farm during the season, train in their spare time, equipped mainly with light weapons, which the state would keep in peacetime. The only difference from traditional landlord private armies was that officers above platoon level would be active-duty officers assigned by the General Staff.

This compromise plan arose from recent practical experience. Initially, due to the resettlement of refugees, landlords in the Luanzhou and Luanhe areas were terrified. With Han Army support, they established many militia units, which ultimately proved ineffective, but Zhou Peigong found them useful. The action by General Liu Laosui in crushing the peasant uprising further revealed the potential of militia. Thus, during the division of power, the military seized the opportunity to advance this proposal.

After careful consideration, Lin Feng was greatly tempted. This militia, though odd—neither true militia nor regular local troops—was appealing. Even if they could not fight, they would be more effective than hastily recruited laborers, at least serving as logistics units. Whether the plan could succeed remained to be seen. Lin Feng knew well that feudal landlords were far more stubborn than twenty-first-century citizens. If implementing the plan provoked widespread backlash from the landlord class and undermined his rule, it would not be worth the cost.

To proceed cautiously, Lin Feng authorized the General Staff to run a pilot in Baoding. The choice was made because, after the recent suppression, the landlords’ armed forces there had gained combat experience. These units were not under the Han Army government’s control, which caused unease; better to conduct a pilot than simply disband them.

With affairs settled and governance arranged, the long-planned war unfolded in an orderly manner. The military strike targeted the remaining Manchu forces in central and western Liaoning, with Shenyang as the focal point. As Han King and Ningjin Commander, Lin Feng would lead the campaign personally—a decision unopposed by anyone. From the military’s perspective, only Lin Feng and Zhou Peigong were qualified, but for various unspoken reasons and his own prestige, Zhou Peigong was better kept at his post, leaving Lin Feng to command.

Lin Feng’s personal guard consisted of two infantry battalions, two cavalry battalions, and one artillery brigade of the Han Imperial Guard, commanded by General Rick, totaling four thousand men, a third of the Imperial Guard’s strength. To enhance siege capability, Lin Feng reinforced the artillery, bringing many heavy siege guns. This force would serve as the third echelon and ultimately join the main force of the Third Army under Wang Dahai in Jinzhou.

The second echelon was the Sixth Cavalry Army under Ma Ying, a newly organized force including three cavalry brigades, one mixed horse-and-foot brigade, and one battalion of Guardsmen, totaling about nine thousand including support staff. All officers had completed their training at Han Ma Village Military Academy, and the unit was fully staffed. This force would spearhead the breakthrough, tasked with penetration and countering reinforcements.

The first echelon was Wang Dahai’s Third Infantry Army. His troops could not commit many forces; their sector was adjacent to the front line, and the Manchu forces possessed highly mobile cavalry, requiring vigilance. Thus, only two cavalry battalions, one infantry battalion, and some artillery could be deployed. Lin Feng and the General Staff had never expected much from them. As the closest to the front, Wang Dahai’s orders were simply to conduct detailed reconnaissance and surveillance, harassing and exhausting the Manchu defenders to secure supply routes for the main force.

For this campaign, the Han Army government conscripted over ninety thousand laborers, more than twenty-two thousand mules, and over three thousand carts. Most laborers were recruited from the migrants resettled in Liaodong, a group deeply indebted to the Han Army government and unquestioningly loyal. Mules and carts, aside from some requisitioned from the populace, were mainly reserved by the General Staff. Based on preliminary predictions, supply units were deployed along the highways, establishing a long supply route from Tongzhou to Jinzhou.

In the autumn of 1685, Han King Lin Feng led an army of 110,000, claiming 150,000, and advanced northward into central Liaoning.