novelSusiti Chapter 14 Po Jun Village
Chapter 14 Po Jun Village
The door is crooked.
The two wooden planks were tied together with ropes, which were so worn that they would break at the slightest touch. Half of the wall had collapsed, bricks were scattered everywhere, and grass was growing all over it. The ground was covered with grass, which was no taller than his calves.
There were no flagpoles. No barracks. Only a few thatched huts sat exposed to the sun, baked white, like a pack of wild dogs that had died in the heat.
Shen Bai stood at the door, watching.
The wind blew in from the opening in the wall, carrying a rotten smell.
Wang Dechang, Cao.
---
The camp was even more dilapidated inside than outside.
The ground was covered in mud; one step could sink up to your ankle. Fifty people were waiting in the yard.
They stood crookedly. Some were old, some were young, some were injured, and some were disabled.
Shen Bai counted them once.
Seventeen old men. The oldest was over fifty, the youngest was forty. Their faces were covered in wrinkles, their hands in calluses.
There were twelve small ones. The oldest was seventeen or eighteen, and the youngest was thirteen or fourteen. They were so thin they were skin and bones.
Twenty-one were injured. Their arms were wrapped in cloth, which was filthy and black.
No one cares about him.
They looked at him. With the same eyes they'd give a passing stray dog. Not hostility—it was just a habit.
---
Shen Bai walked up to them.
"Have you got a meal yet?"
No one answered.
Is there a kitchen?
Still no answer.
Iron Shield couldn't hold back any longer.
"Are they all mute?"
An old man took a step forward. His face was etched with deep wrinkles, and he dragged his feet as he walked.
"No kitchen, no stove, no food."
His voice was flat.
"We've been here for three days. And we've only eaten wild vegetables for three days."
"What's your name?"
"Old Zhao."
Which battalion were you from before?
Old Zhao's eyes flickered.
"The vanguard battalion."
Shen Bai looked at him.
The vanguard battalion. His father's battalion.
"you--"
"I'm in the second row."
Old Zhao interrupted him, his voice becoming even lower.
"I was there when the shield wall collapsed. I watched your father fall."
The two people stared at each other. Neither of them spoke.
---
Shen Bai turned around and looked at the few dilapidated thatched huts.
"Eat first."
"Iron Shield, take some men to chop wood."
Iron Shield stood to the side, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Old Zhao, take two men to dig for wild vegetables."
Old Zhao nodded. He beckoned two people to join him and they walked out of the village.
Shen Bai looked at the remaining people.
"The rest of you, come with me."
Nobody moved.
"Walk."
Just one word.
"I'll go."
A soldier stepped forward. He was sixteen or seventeen, skin and bones, his face filthy. His clothes were so tattered that only a few pieces of cloth remained hanging on his body.
Then another one moved. Another one. Another one.
One by one, people came out and stood in front of Shen Bai.
They didn't say anything, but they stepped forward.
---
That evening, they had their first meal together.
Wild vegetables. Boiled in plain water. No salt. No oil. Tasteless. But it fills the stomach.
Fifty people sat around in the center of the courtyard, each with a bowl, eating. No one spoke. Only the sound of slurping porridge filled the air.
Shen Bai sat to one side, watching them.
The older children are feeding the younger ones, giving a little from their own bowls. The injured wait to the side, eating only after everyone else has finished. The thin ones are wolfing down their food, licking the bottom of their bowls clean.
He remembered it.
He looked at Old Zhao. Old Zhao sat on the edge of the crowd, not eating, holding his bowl and looking at the sky. It was already dark.
Aren't you going to eat?
Old Zhao didn't answer. He put the bowl on the ground and looked at Shen Bai.
"Captain."
"Um."
"What are you planning to do?"
Shen Bai looked at him without saying a word.
"Three months. Fifty men. No food, no money, no barracks. Wang Dechang sent you here, not intending for you to live."
Old Zhao paused for a moment.
"I know."
---
Late at night.
Shen Bai took a walk around the village.
The mud was wet. There were patches of green moss in the corner. There were footprints on the ground, not theirs—they were from before.
He walked to the thatched hut, which was half collapsed. There was a musty smell inside.
He ran his finger along the marks on the wall. A cloth smear. Coarse gray cloth. As if someone had stood against the wall.
He pulled his fingers back and wiped them on his clothes.
---
In that barely habitable thatched hut, Shen Anning was treating someone's injuries.
The wounded soldiers lined up, squatted at the door, and waited.
She squatted down and opened her medicine box. Inside were needles, thread, cloth, and several small paper packets. The packets contained medicinal powder, which she had prepared herself.
"arm."
A soldier stretched out his arm. The cloth was stuck to his flesh, and when he tore it off, it brought down a layer of skin. The flesh was rotten, black, and smelled bad.
Shen Anning's gaze remained unchanged.
She cut away the rotten flesh, rinsed it with cold water, dried it with a cloth, and then sprinkled on the medicinal powder. Her movements were quick and steady, like she was sewing a garment.
The soldier gritted his teeth and remained silent.
"Okay. Next."
The next one is a leg injury. The wound is below the knee, and it's very deep; you can see the bone inside.
Shen Anning's brow twitched slightly.
"The leg can't be saved."
"..."
The wounded soldier didn't speak. He looked down at his leg.
"It needs to be sawed."
"Saw it."
The voice was flat. It sounded like someone else's story.
Shen Anning looked at him. She looked at him for a long time.
Then she stood up and took a saw from the medicine box. The saw was small; it was left to her by her father, specifically for sawing bones. There was a row of notches along the side, which her father had carved one by one.
"Bite down."
She handed a rag to the wounded soldier.
The wounded soldier took it and bit down.
Shen Anning squatted down and began sawing.
*Snap. Snap. Snap.*
The sound of wood. The wounded soldier bit down on his cloth, the veins in his neck bulging and turning blue. Sweat streamed down his face and into his eyes.
He didn't call out.
The sawing was finished. Shen Anning used a needle and thread to sew up the wound. Her movements were quick, stitch by stitch, like sewing a shoe sole.
"alright."
She put the saw away and returned it to the medicine box.
The wounded soldier spat out the cloth from his mouth and looked at his leg, which was now missing half. He didn't say anything.
He stood up, leaning on his cane, and limped outside.
He paused at the doorway.
Thanks.
The voice was very soft, as if squeezed out from between the teeth.
Shen Anning didn't answer. She lowered her head and packed her medicine kit.
---
Iron Shield sat by the door, leaning on his sword, looking outside.
Shen Bai walked over and sat down next to him.
A cool breeze blew in from the opening in the wall.
Do you know where there are bandits nearby?
Iron Shield paused for a moment.
"What?"
"Mountain bandits. Local bandits."
Iron Shield looked at Shen Bai, and his expression changed.
"You want to fight the bandits?"
"Um."
Old Zhao walked over. He stood there for a while before speaking.
"Nanshan Village."
Shen Bai and Tie Dun looked up at the same time.
Old Zhao squatted down and looked at them.
"Twenty li south of the city, there's a dilapidated temple called Nanshan Village. It's a little over a hundred strong and has been occupied for three years."
His voice was very low.
"Years ago, our vanguard battalion was robbed by them when we passed through. Three of our brothers died."
Iron Shield's expression changed.
"Over a hundred?"
Old Zhao nodded.
"Wu has four thugs under his command, all of them desperate criminals. The rest are gamblers and alcoholics, cowards."
He paused for a moment.
"If you're going to hit him, hit him when he's drunk."
He looked into Shen Bai's eyes.
"I had a brother who died at the hands of Nanshan Village. I wanted revenge back then, but I never had the chance. I thought about it many times: how to fight, how to get in, how to kill Wu Er."
His voice stopped.
"But I can't do it alone."
He looked into Shen Bai's eyes.
"Now we have an opportunity."
---
Shen Bai stood up.
Tell me.
Old Zhao stood up and drew on the ground with his foot.
"Nanshan Village is located halfway up the mountain, accessible by only one path. There are cliffs on both sides."
He drew a circle.
"The temple is in the middle, there's a threshing ground in front, and a cellar in the back where the grain is stored."
Iron Shield leaned closer to take a look.
"Over a hundred, can you beat them?"
Old Zhao shook his head.
"Wu Erxi gambled and drank heavily, always getting drunk on the 3rd, 13th, and 23rd of each month. When he was drunk, he would sleep soundly in the temple, unable to be woken up."
He looked into Shen Bai's eyes.
"I know their background."
---
Shen Bai stood up.
"We're leaving tomorrow."
Iron Shield paused, taken aback. "So soon?"
Shen Bai looked at the fifty people.
"They can't wait."
He turned around and looked at Old Zhao.
"You lead the team. Iron Shield and I will follow."
Old Zhao nodded.
"good."
Iron Shield looked at Shen Bai, and his expression changed.
---
Shen Bai stood in the courtyard, looking at the moon in the sky.
It's curved, like a knife.
Fifty people. Three months. More than a hundred bandits.
He clenched his fist, then relaxed it.
My hand is still white. It doesn't hurt anymore.
Tomorrow, we'll attack Nanshan Village.
---
(End of Chapter Fourteen)