xymnovel Chapter 9 The Turmoil at the Academy
Chapter 9 The Turmoil at the Academy
In the spring of the tenth year of Chongzhen (1637), Ma Changsheng was ten years old.
The admission notice for Qishui County School was delivered in early spring.
It was a piece of gold-flecked red paper with the words "Student Ma Changsheng of Qishui County shall enroll and begin his studies on February 15th" written in neat regular script. The signature was stamped with the bright red seal of the school administrator.
Ma Sanbao held the paper, his hands trembling.
This was a matter of bringing honor to one's ancestors—the county school was a government-run institution, and entering it meant officially embarking on the path of the imperial examinations, with a monthly stipend of rice. For generations, no one in the village had ever produced such a scholar.
But Madam Li cried, "Changsheng is only ten years old, and he has to go to the county town to live and study? With the war and chaos around him, I'm worried about him..."
Ma Changsheng himself was also hesitant.
It was indeed difficult for a ten-year-old to live independently in the county town.
More importantly, Majia Village is at a critical juncture—the local militia has just been formed, the reputation of "Majia Fortress" has just been established, and the three surrounding villages have paid protection fees, relying on them for protection. If this "little strategist" leaves, many things will become difficult to handle.
Mr. Zhou made a special trip from the mountains, sat in the ancestral hall, looked at Ma Changsheng, and asked directly, "Do you want to go?"
Ma Changsheng spoke frankly: "I want to go, but I don't want to go. I want to go because I can learn more at the county school, make friends with classmates, and lay the foundation for the provincial examination in the future. I don't want to go because the village needs me."
The old man stroked his beard: "Chang Sheng, I ask you: What kind of person do you want to be?"
This question left Ma Changsheng speechless.
He had many answers: he wanted to live, he wanted to protect his family, he wanted to witness this era, he wanted to wait for his consciousness to fully awaken... but he couldn't say any of these things.
"The student does not know."
"Then let me tell you," Mr. Zhou said seriously, "There are two kinds of scholars. One kind reads the classics to cultivate themselves, manage their families, govern the country, and bring peace to the world; the other kind reads practical books to survive in chaotic times. Which kind do you want to be?"
Ma Changsheng thought for a moment: "The student wants to do the third option."
"Oh?"
"We should read the classics to understand principles and cultivate ourselves; we should also read practical books to protect our territory and ensure the safety of our people," Ma Changsheng said. "Then, we should teach these two kinds of knowledge to more people."
Mr. Zhou's eyes lit up: "What ambition! Then you should go to the county school."
"But in the village..."
"You have your father, Tiezhu, and so many fellow villagers in the village. They can manage," Mr. Zhou said. "But if you don't go to the county school, your learning will come to an end. Your methods of guarding the fort and training troops can only be used in Majia Village. But there is more than one Majia Village in the world. There are thousands upon thousands of villages struggling in the chaos of the Ming Dynasty. What you need to learn is how to promote these methods."
These words touched Ma Changsheng.
Yes, he defended Majia Village, but Wang Village was massacred, Li Village was robbed, and Zhao Village was deserted... One person's strength is too small.
"Moreover," Mr. Zhou lowered his voice, "the county school not only has classics, histories, philosophical works, and literary collections, but also current affairs discussions and news from all sides. If you want to understand this era, you can't stay confined to a mountain village."
Ma Changsheng made up his mind: "I'll go."
Before setting off, he did three things.
The first task was to improve the "Essentials of Fortress Defense".
He had been writing this manuscript for half a year, covering everything from building walls and training troops to negotiating and raising funds, from setting up traps to street fighting formations, leaving no detail untouched.
But now that he's leaving, he must make sure the villagers can understand and use it.
He found Tie Zhu—now the deputy captain of the militia, who knew more than 300 characters and could read simple documents.
"Brother Tiezhu, I'm leaving this book to you." Ma Changsheng handed over a thick stack of papers. "I've drawn diagrams on every page, and I've marked the pronunciation of any unfamiliar characters. While I'm away, you must lead everyone to continue practicing according to the methods in the book."
Tie Zhu solemnly accepted it: "Chang Sheng, don't worry, I will definitely take good care of the village."
"It's not just about watching," Ma Changsheng said. "We need to develop. The surrounding villages pay protection fees, so we have to actually protect them. You should lead people on patrols regularly and help train their local militia. If we encounter small groups of bandits, we should join forces to fight them; if we encounter large groups, we should alert them and help them relocate."
"I see."
"Also," Ma Changsheng pulled a small notebook from his pocket, "this is a compilation of the bandits' activity patterns. Based on refugees' accounts and merchants' information, I've deduced several routes the bandits frequently take. By avoiding these routes when transporting grain, you can also get early warnings."
Tie Zhu opened the notebook and saw dense symbols and lines inside—it was Ma Changsheng's self-created map marking method, which only the two of them understood.
"Chang Sheng," Tie Zhu suddenly said, "when will you return after you leave?"
"I'll come back during the ten-day break each month." Ma Changsheng paused, "If... if I can't stay at the county school, I'll come back."
The second thing is to stockpile supplies.
Majia Village currently has enough grain to feed the entire village for three months, enough weapons to equip fifty people, and more than twenty horses seized from bandits—although most of them are thin and weak, they can be used after some care.
Ma Changsheng, along with his father and several leaders, inventoried the warehouses and devised a distribution plan: "The grain will be stored in three places: a cave, the cellar of the ancestral hall, and an abandoned well west of the village. The weapons will be divided into four batches and managed by four teams. The horses will be kept together on the back mountain and grazed in shifts every day."
"Why do we need to separate them?" someone asked.
"We need to guard against internal traitors, and also against being wiped out in one fell swoop," Ma Changsheng said. "Even if someone betrays us, or if bandits succeed in their attack, we won't be completely wiped out."
This was learned from Europa's base—distributed storage and redundant backup.
In that era, this was a fundamental strategy for the continuation of civilization.
The third thing is to establish a carrier pigeon system.
This was Ma Changsheng's proudest preparation.
He bought six pairs of homing pigeons from a passing caravan and built a pigeon loft on the back mountain. After six months of training, these pigeons were able to travel between Majia Village and the county town.
"If there's an emergency, send a pigeon," he taught Tiezhu. "A red ribbon means bandits are attacking, a yellow ribbon means government soldiers are extorting money, and a white ribbon means plague and famine. When I see the letter, I'll find a way back."
"Then you'll send us a message?"
"I will bring back news during my ten-day break," Ma Changsheng said. "Normally, if there are important events in the county, I will also send pigeons—but the pigeons may be shot down, so important news still needs to be delivered by people."
Everything was arranged by February 14th.
The night before leaving, Li packed her son's luggage: two sets of clothes, a thin quilt, a set of writing brush, ink, paper and inkstone, a few books he often read, and a small bag of fried rice—that was dry food for the journey.
Ma Sanbao squatted at the door, smoking a pipe, without saying a word.
Ma Changsheng walked over and sat down next to him.
"Father, don't worry."
"How could I not worry?" Ma Sanbao's voice was hoarse. "You're only ten years old..."
"Ten years old is not young anymore," Ma Changsheng said. "Tiezhu started working in the fields when he was ten. It's a blessing that I can go to school."
Ma Sanbao turned to look at him. In the moonlight, his son's face was still young, but his eyes were mature enough to break one's heart. He suddenly remembered his son recognizing constellations when he was two years old, passing the imperial examination at five, and commanding the village defense at nine... This child seemed to have never been an ordinary child.
"Chang Sheng, let me ask you a question," Ma Sanbao said in a low voice, "You...you are not...?"
"What is it?"
Ma Sanbao opened his mouth, but ultimately shook his head: "It's nothing. Go on, study hard. Your father is here."
That night, Ma Changsheng didn't sleep.
He sat by the window, trying to gather his thoughts one last time.
The consciousness status panel opens automatically:
Age: 10 years old
Physical development: Due to long-term malnutrition, height and weight are 18% below the average for their age.
Academic level: Thoroughly read the Four Books and Five Classics, have some knowledge of historical books, and have studied military, agricultural, and medical books.
Skills: Basic military command, simple engineering, intelligence analysis, basic medical care, pigeon training
Consciousness Awareness Level: 0.23%
Historical event matching: Zhang Xianzhong enters Sichuan (soon to happen), Li Zicheng infiltrates Shangluo (in progress), Qing army's third invasion of the pass (soon to happen).
Risk Assessment: The county school environment is complex; caution is advised in speech and actions to avoid prematurely revealing special abilities.
Recommendation: Focus on learning, supplemented by observation; build a network of contacts to acquire more information about the times.
He closed the consciousness panel and looked out the window.
Majia Village slept in the night, with torches flickering on the walls as Tiezhu patrolled the night.
The village where he lived for ten years has transformed from an ordinary, poor village into a small, armed fortress for self-defense.
And he was going to a bigger world.
The Qishui County School was located next to the Confucian Temple in the east of the city, and consisted of a three-courtyard complex.
With its blue bricks and gray tiles, flying eaves and brackets, and ancient cypress trees reaching for the sky, the courtyard exudes both a scholarly atmosphere and a sense of antiquity.
When Ma Changsheng reported for duty, it caused a small commotion.
A ten-year-old student is rare enough, let alone one dressed in patched coarse cloth clothes and carrying a tattered bundle, making him stand out conspicuously among a group of richly dressed young men.
The examiner, an elderly scholar surnamed Sun, wearing reading glasses, carefully examined Ma Changsheng's documents: "Ma Changsheng... well, he ranked twenty-ninth in last year's preliminary examination. He's too young; he should have waited two more years. But Mr. Zhou strongly recommended him, saying he has great potential."
"The students will certainly work hard."
"You must remember the rules of the county school." Sun Xuezheng said sternly, "You must recite in the morning without delay; you must complete your homework on time without arrears; you must not leave school without permission, and you must not gather in groups to cause trouble; you must respect your teachers and be friendly to your classmates."
"Students, please remember this."
The dormitory is a large communal room for eight people.
Ma Changsheng was assigned to the berth closest to the door—the coldest spot in winter and the hottest in summer.
The other seven students in the room were all older than him, ranging in age from seventeen to fourteen.
As he was making the bed, a chubby boy came over and asked, "Are you Ma Changsheng? The nine-year-old scholar?"
Ma Changsheng nodded: "Yes."
"Impressive!" The boy gave a thumbs up. "My name is Zhao Dabao, from the Zhao family in the east of the city. We'll be classmates from now on, please take care of me!"
The others also gathered around, some curious, some disdainful, and some indifferent.
Ma Changsheng greeted everyone in a respectful yet humble manner.
After making his bed, he went to collect his stipend—six dou of rice per month, plus three liang of "oil and silver."
This was a subsidy from the imperial court to students. Although it was meager, it was a lifesaver for poor students like him.
The afternoon was the first day of school, and Sun Xuezheng personally lectured on "The Great Learning".
The old gentleman, speaking with measured intonation, declared on the stage: "The way of the Great Learning consists in manifesting one's bright virtue, in loving the people, and in abiding in perfect goodness..."
Below the stage, some students listened attentively, some dozed off, and some passed notes. Ma Changsheng sat in the last row, listening and observing at the same time.
He noticed a few special people: the young man in blue sitting in the middle of the first row, who always sat upright and took neat notes—he later learned that his name was Li Wenbin, the second-place winner in the previous children's examination; the one by the window wearing a silk shirt, who looked out the window from time to time with a wandering gaze—that was Zhao Ming, the top scorer in last year's children's examination, the rich young man that Ma Changsheng had met during the examination who said he wanted to "report on the collusion with the enemy".
There was also a tall, thin man sitting in front of him who frowned from time to time while listening to the lecture, as if he was thinking about some difficult problem.
During the break, Ma Changsheng overheard him discussing with the person next to him: "Zhu Xi said 'investigate things to acquire knowledge,' but how do we investigate things? Can we understand the principles of heaven by investigating a single blade of grass or a single tree?"
This question gave Ma Changsheng a sudden thought.
This was a debate within Confucianism during the Ming Dynasty, a divergence between the School of Mind and the School of Principle.
It's impressive that this tall, thin man could think of something like this.
He initiated the conversation, saying, "Brother, that's a good question. As Master Yangming said, 'The mind itself is principle; there's no need to seek it externally.'"
The tall, thin man turned around and looked at him in surprise: "You know about Yangming's philosophy?"
I know a little bit about it.
"What's your name?"
"Ma Changsheng".
"Oh, that child prodigy." The tall, thin man smiled. "My name is Chen Jiru, and my father is the county school instructor."
Ma Changsheng remembered—it was the son of Chen Jiaoyu, the one who had asked him to transport the books.
He quickly bowed and said, "So it's Brother Chen. My apologies for my rudeness."
Chen Jiru waved his hand: "No need to be polite. Since you know about Yangming's philosophy, tell me, in this chaotic world, should we 'investigate things to acquire knowledge' or 'unite knowledge with action'?"
This is a very pointed question. Ma Changsheng thought for a moment: "In my opinion, both 'knowledge' and 'action' are important in chaotic times. But if we can only choose one, 'action' should come first—because the people can't wait for us to 'understand' the principles; they need to survive."
Chen Jiru's eyes lit up: "Well said! That's what I think too. That's why my dad always says I'm 'not doing my proper job' and that I'm always thinking about practical things."
The two hit it off as they talked.
Chen Jiru was seventeen years old, seven years older than Ma Changsheng, but he was open-minded and interested in agronomy, military science, and medicine. He and Ma Changsheng got along very well.
"Let's learn from each other more in the future," Chen Jiru said. "Most people in this county school are bookworms; it's rare to meet someone as insightful as you."
Ma Changsheng was secretly delighted—one of his important purposes in entering the county school was to build connections.
Chen Jiru, a son of an official with enlightened ideas, was an ideal person to befriend.
However, life at the county school was not peaceful.
On the third day, something bad happened.
That morning, Ma Changsheng discovered that the clothes he had hung out to dry in the yard were missing.
After searching around, they found it thrown into the ditch behind the outhouse, covered in mud.
His roommate, Zhao Dabao, whispered to him, "It was Zhao Ming's gang who did it. They said you, a poor country boy, don't deserve to wear a scholar's robe."
Ma Changsheng looked at the dirty clothes—they were altered for him by Li Shi after staying up all night; although old, they were washed clean.
He silently picked it up and went to the well to fetch water to wash it.
Zhao Dabao followed him over: "Chang Sheng, are you really going to just put up with this?"
"What else?" Ma Changsheng said calmly, "Fight? Tell them a story? Neither will work."
"We can't just let others bully us!"
Ma Changsheng didn't say anything, and carefully scrubbed the stains off his clothes.
He wasn't being patient; he was calculating.
Zhao Ming's family was a wealthy household in the county town; his father was a clerk in the county government and had power and influence.
If you go head-to-head, you'll only suffer.
But he couldn't keep being bullied—otherwise he wouldn't be able to stay at the county school.
During the afternoon calligraphy class, Zhao Ming came to cause trouble again.
He deliberately knocked over Ma Changsheng's inkstone, spilling ink all over the ground.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Zhao Ming said insincerely, "I didn't see it."
Ma Changsheng squatted down to tidy up.
Zhao Ming kicked the broken inkstone: "How much is this broken inkstone worth? I'll pay you back."
"No need." Ma Changsheng looked up at Zhao Ming. "Brother Zhao, if you really want to compensate me, why don't you do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
"I've heard that Brother Zhao's father is in charge of criminal matters in the county government, so he must be very familiar with the law." Ma Changsheng stood up, his voice not loud, but loud enough for those around him to hear. "The Household Law section of the Great Ming Code stipulates that a student's monthly stipend is six dou of rice, which cannot be deducted. But I only received five dou. I don't know if the county school is deducting from it, or if there's a shortage in the granary? Brother Zhao, could you please ask your father for me?"
As soon as he said that, the surroundings fell silent.
All the students pricked up their ears—the withholding of their stipends was an open secret, but no one dared to expose it.
Ma Changsheng's question hit the nail on the head.
Zhao Ming's face changed: "You... what nonsense are you talking about! The grain rations have all been distributed in full!"
"Really?" Ma Changsheng pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. "Then I remembered it wrong? I have a record here: I received five dou of rice on the tenth of the second month; I should receive five dou on the fifteenth of this month. If it is still five dou, I will have to ask the head of the academy if the court has changed the regulations."
He certainly wouldn't actually ask—that would be tantamount to slapping Xuezheng in the face.
But after hearing this, everyone knew that Zhao Ming's family might have problems with withholding grain from the government's stipend.
Zhao Ming was so angry his face turned pale, but he dared not retaliate. His father did indeed have a stake in the granary, and if this got out, it would cause him a lot of trouble.
"You...you just wait!" Zhao Ming said harshly, then turned and left.
Zhao Dabao leaned over and gave him a thumbs up: "Chang Sheng, you're amazing! You shut him up with just one sentence."
Ma Changsheng shook his head: "This is not a long-term solution. He will cause more trouble."
"What should we do then?"
Ma Changsheng did not answer.
He was thinking about how to solve this problem once and for all.
The opportunity came soon.
Five days later, the county school held its monthly "meeting meeting".
This is a custom: all students write essays on the same topic, and the best ones are posted, while the worst ones are punished.
The topic this time is: "On the ills of the times".
The question caused an uproar in the room.
This is a sensitive topic; writing about it lightly is meaningless, while writing about it heavily will cause trouble.
Most students chose the middle way—writing clichés like "frequent natural disasters" and "the people's hearts are no longer what they used to be."
Ma Changsheng, however, began to think about it seriously.
He wanted to take this opportunity to do three things: first, to showcase his talent and earn respect; second, to test the atmosphere of the county school and see where the boundaries of free speech lay; and third, to legitimize the local militia in Majia Village—it would be even better if the militia could be described as a "good strategy for protecting the territory and ensuring the safety of the people."
He picked up his pen and immediately broke the mold: "The ills of today are not a single problem, but a hundred ills arising in succession, like a disease that has reached the very heart..."
He then argued in three points: First, the problems of the imperial court were excessive taxes and inappropriate suppression and appeasement; second, the problems of the local areas were corrupt officials and powerful clans annexing land; and third, the problems of the common people were difficult livelihoods and rampant banditry.
Every point is well-supported by classical texts, yet grounded in reality.
When writing about the ills of the common people, he specifically mentioned: "Some villages organize their own militias and build fortresses to defend themselves. Although this does not conform to the old system, it ensures the safety of the area, protects the old and young, and spares women and children from disaster. This is something that has to be done out of necessity, and it is also the wisdom of the people."
This is to defend Majia Village, and also to speak for all villages that have spontaneously armed themselves.
After finishing and submitting his paper, Sun Xuezheng reviewed the papers on the spot.
When reading Ma Changsheng's article, the old gentleman frowned, sometimes nodding and sometimes shaking his head.
In the final evaluation, Sun Xuezheng singled out Ma Changsheng's article: "This article... demonstrates exceptional insight, but its language is excessive. According to the rules, it should be punished."
Zhao Ming and the others smiled smugly.
But Sun Xuezheng changed the subject: "However, the essence of writing lies in genuine insight. Although this article has its flaws, every sentence hits the nail on the head regarding current problems, something that ordinary pedantic scholars cannot achieve. Therefore, I am making an exception and posting it here as encouragement."
The room was completely silent.
Zhao Ming's smile froze on his face.
Ma Changsheng's article was posted on the notice board outside Minglun Hall.
Soon, a crowd gathered.
Some students read it aloud in hushed tones, while some academic officials stopped to watch.
Chen Jiru squeezed next to Ma Changsheng and whispered, "Changsheng, your article... is too bold. But it's well written! Especially the part about vindicating the militia, it speaks to our hearts."
"Brother Chen, do you also support local militias?"
"Of course!" Chen Jiru said. "The books my father moved out of the county school were to prevent them from being destroyed by war. If every village could protect itself like your Ma family village, how could the world have fallen into such chaos?"
As the two were talking, a voice interrupted: "Ma Changsheng?"
Turning around, I saw Li Wenbin, the young man in blue.
His expression was serious: "I've read your article. It's insightful, but there's one point I disagree with."
"Please enlighten me, Brother Li."
"You say it's 'a last resort,' which seems to view the local militia training as a temporary measure. But I believe that when the imperial court is powerless to protect the local areas, local self-defense is not only a temporary measure, but also the right path," Li Wenbin said. "I have read Gu Yanwu's article, in which he said, 'The rise and fall of the nation is the responsibility of every citizen.' Local self-government is precisely the manifestation of every citizen fulfilling their responsibility."
Ma Changsheng was shocked.
Gu Yanwu was a great thinker of the late Ming and early Qing dynasties. He was the one who proposed the idea that "everyone is responsible for the rise and fall of the nation."
Unexpectedly, his articles were already being read at the county school.
"Brother Li, your insights are profound." Ma Changsheng bowed. "May I ask what your views are on the specific methods of organizing the local militia?"
The three of them stood by the notice board and began to discuss it.
The conversation went deeper and deeper, from the organization of the local militia to the collection of provisions and wages, and the relationship with the government.
A crowd gradually gathered around them, all listening to their discussion.
This was the first time Ma Changsheng had felt respected since entering the county school—not because of his young age, nor because he had passed the imperial examination early, but because of his insights.
After that day, his status at the county school quietly changed.
Zhao Ming and his gang no longer dared to openly bully him, because many students began to admire him.
Chen Jiru and Li Wenbin became his friends, and the three of them often discussed academic and current affairs together.
Ma Changsheng also took this opportunity to consciously begin collecting information.
Through Chen Jiru, he gained access to a wide variety of books in the county school's library—not only classics and histories, but also local chronicles, military records, and even some books from the West. Through Li Wenbin, he learned about various intellectual trends among scholars—the remnants of the Donglin Party, the activities of the Fushe Society, and news of resistance against the Qing in various places.
He organized this information into notes and recorded it using his own coded language.
When he returned to Majia Village during the ten-day break each month, he would dictate to Tiezhu, who would then write it down as an intelligence reserve.
In the middle of April, Ma Changsheng was awakened by the cooing of pigeons.
He quietly got up and went into the courtyard.
Under the moonlight, a gray pigeon perched on the pigeon coop, with a red cloth strip tied to its leg.
Red ribbon – Bandits are coming!
Ma Changsheng's heart tightened. He took off the strip of cloth and found a small bamboo tube on the pigeon's leg, inside which was a strip of paper.
He returned to his dormitory and, by the moonlight, examined the words on the note—it was Tie Zhu's handwriting, crooked and illegible, but legible:
"On the third day, three hundred bandits attacked Wang Village. Wang Village requested reinforcements, and Father led fifty men to its aid. I will defend the village. Return quickly."
The note was dated two days ago.
In other words, a battle may have already taken place.
Ma Changsheng did not sleep all night.
After daybreak, he went to ask Sun Xuezheng for leave.
"There's an emergency at home, so I need to go back to my hometown."
Sun Xuezheng looked at his anxious face: "What's the matter that's so urgent?"
Ma Changsheng hesitated for a moment before deciding to tell the truth: "The bandits attacked the neighboring village, and my father led the local militia to the rescue. I am worried."
Sun Xuezheng paused for a moment: "Do you know that, according to the rules, students who leave school without permission will be expelled?"
"The student knows. But when parents are in trouble, we can't just ignore it."
The old man looked at him, then suddenly sighed: "Go. I'll give you three days off. If you don't return after three days, I can't protect you."
"Thank you, Xuezheng!" Ma Changsheng bowed deeply and then ran away.
He left the county town without any luggage, only carrying a few pieces of dry food.
He ran for two hours to cover twenty miles—his body was at its limit at ten years old, but he dared not stop.
As he approached Majia Village, he smelled the pervasive stench of blood in the air. His heart sank, and he quickened his pace.
At the village entrance, there were new tears on the wall and bloodstains on the ground, but they had dried.
The village militia guarding the gate saw him and shouted with joy, "Chang Sheng is back!"
"Where's my father?" Ma Changsheng asked, panting.
"Uncle Sanbao was injured and is in the ancestral hall."
Ma Changsheng rushed into the ancestral hall.
There were seven or eight wounded people lying inside, and Aunt Chen was bandaging them.
Ma Sanbao lay on the straw mat, his left shoulder wrapped in cloth, seeping blood, but he was conscious.
"Father!" Ma Changsheng rushed over.
"Chang Sheng? Why are you back?" Ma Sanbao was both surprised and delighted. "I'm fine, just some minor injuries."
"Over in Wang Village..."
"We rescued them." Ma Sanbao gave a tired smile. "Our group of fifty, plus the thirty-odd local militia from Wang Village, fought off three hundred bandits. We killed more than forty, wounded twelve, and... killed three."
Tie Zhu came in from outside and saw Ma Changsheng. His eyes reddened. "Changsheng, it's good that you're back. Uncle Sanbao was stabbed while saving me."
It turned out that during the battle, Tie Zhu was surrounded by two bandits, and Ma Sanbao rushed up to block one of their blows.
Ma Changsheng examined his father's wound—the knife wound was deep enough to expose the bone, but it had not hit any vital organs.
He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Tie Zhu, asking, "Tell me the details."
Tie Zhu recounted what had happened: The bandits were a detachment under Zhang Xianzhong, originally heading to attack the county seat. Passing through Wang Village, they decided to plunder. After receiving a plea for help, Ma Sanbao led his men to Wang Village's aid overnight. The two sides fought fiercely outside Wang Village for two hours. Seeing they couldn't gain any advantage and fearing the arrival of county officials, the bandits withdrew.
"We've made a name for ourselves in this battle," Tie Zhu said. "Now, five surrounding villages are asking to join our militia alliance and are willing to pay protection money."
Ma Changsheng nodded, but a sense of unease lingered in his heart: "The bandits suffered a loss; will they retaliate?"
"Possibly," Ma Sanbao said. "That's why I've ordered all the villages to strengthen their defenses, and our people are taking turns patrolling. But Changsheng, we don't have enough manpower. We have to protect six villages, covering an area of several miles, how can fifty people be enough?"
This is a real problem. Ma Changsheng pondered for a moment: "Father, we need to expand our army."
"How do we expand? Where will the money and supplies come from?"
"The money and provisions will be provided by the protected villages," Ma Changsheng said. "We will set standards: different amounts of money and provisions will be paid according to the size and wealth of the village. These funds and provisions will be used to recruit able-bodied men and purchase weapons."
"This...this is practically collecting taxes?"
"It's not a tax, it's a service fee," Ma Changsheng said. "We provide protection, and they pay us. It's a fair trade. Moreover, our militia should be formalized: unified training, unified command, an intelligence network, and sentry posts."
He spoke faster and faster, his thoughts clear: "Also, we need to negotiate with the county. Now that we've protected six villages, we're essentially sharing the county's defense burden. The county should give us official status, at least the title of 'Village Brave Battalion,' so we can legitimately expand our army."
Ma Sanbao and Tiezhu were both stunned.
This ten-year-old child is thinking even further ahead than they are.
"But will the county agree?" Tie Zhu asked.
"Yes," Ma Changsheng said confidently, "because the county government has no other choice. There aren't enough government troops, and the number of bandits is increasing. With our local militia blocking the way, the county government will be safe. They couldn't be happier."
He paused for a moment, then said, "When I returned to the county school this time, I went to find Instructor Chen and, through his son, talked to the county magistrate."
With the plan set, Ma Changsheng stayed at home for two days, helping Aunt Chen take care of the wounded, and also inspected the village's defensive fortifications, offering several suggestions for improvement.
On the third day, he had to return to the county school.
Before leaving, he said to his father, "Father, if there is another battle, do not personally charge into battle. You are the commander-in-chief; you should stay in command."
Ma Sanbao smiled wryly: "If I don't flush, who will?"
"Tiezhu can charge, the other captains can charge," Ma Changsheng said earnestly. "Dad, you must live. You are the backbone of our militia. If you fall, the morale will collapse."
Looking at his son, Ma Sanbao suddenly realized that his son had really grown up.
Upon returning to the county school, Ma Changsheng immediately found Chen Jiru and told him about his idea of expanding the local militia.
Chen Jiru was very excited: "This is a great idea! My father often says that the government is powerless, and self-help by the people is the only way out. I'll talk to my father and ask him to make the connection."
Instructor Chen indeed agreed.
He took Ma Changsheng to see Magistrate Qian, and the three of them talked behind closed doors for an afternoon.
The negotiations went smoothly.
The county magistrate was worried about defense – his superiors had ordered him to “protect the territory and ensure the safety of the people”, but he only had a little over two hundred soldiers under his command, and he had to guard the county seat, so he couldn’t take care of the villages at all.
The local militia in Majia Village was able to protect six villages, which meant they solved a major problem for him.
An agreement was finally reached: the county officially recognized the "Qishui Township Braves" and appointed Ma Sanbao as the commander and Ma Changsheng as the "Painter".
The local militia was organized into three hundred men, who were responsible for their own food and pay, but were granted the authority to "suppress bandits" by the county and could keep the spoils of war.
Meanwhile, the local militia must obey the county's orders—but the orders must be negotiated in advance and provisions must be provided.
This agreement transformed the local militia in Majia Village from a civilian armed force into a semi-official organization.
Although they still had to raise their own food, having official status made many things easier.
When the news reached Majia Village, the whole village was in an uproar.
Ma Sanbao officially raised the banner of "Qishui Township Braves" and began recruiting young men.
Surrounding villages sent their sons to join them—in chaotic times, serving as a soldier and receiving rations was better than starving to death.
Ma Changsheng was also busy at the county school.
He began to systematically study military affairs, engineering, and logistics by utilizing the resources of the county school.
He would return to the village every ten days of the month, bringing with him the newly acquired knowledge to train the local militia and improve their defenses.
He also did something else: he wrote teaching materials.
The main focus is on practical teaching materials—"The Militia Drill Manual," "Simple Fortification Methods," "Battle Wound First Aid," "Grain and Forage Management," etc. Each book is richly illustrated and easy to understand.
These teaching materials were not only used in the village militia camps, but also circulated to other villages, and even caught the attention of some local officials.
In the autumn of the tenth year of the Chongzhen reign, Ma Changsheng was eleven years old.
He has become a unique figure in the county school: the youngest, yet the most knowledgeable; the most humble in origin, yet the most widely connected.
He was no longer just a "child prodigy," but "Ma Zanhua"—although it was only a nominal position in the village militia, everyone knew that the ever-growing local militia in Majia Village was the brainchild of this eleven-year-old boy.
Sun Xuezheng once said to him privately, "Changsheng, the path you've taken is unprecedented. Scholars aspire to become generals or ministers, but you... seem to be pioneering a third path."
Ma Changsheng asked, "What road?"
"Use the wisdom of a scholar to perform the duties of a military general; use the learning of sages to relieve the people's suffering." Sun Xuezheng said, "This path is difficult, but if we can succeed, perhaps... we can save the people of this region."
As the old man spoke, autumn leaves were falling outside the window.
The Ming Dynasty, like these autumn leaves, was swaying in the wind and rain.
And Ma Changsheng, this consciousness from the future, is gradually, step by step, intervening in this era in his own way within this eleven-year-old body.
He still had much to do: take the provincial examination, strengthen the local militia, cope with the chaos of the times, and deal with that distant future that awaited his awakening...
But he wasn't in a hurry.
Time is on his side—at least for now, he still has time to grow, plan, and prepare.
The school bell rang, signaling the start of class.
Ma Changsheng closed his notebook and walked towards Minglun Hall.
Sunlight filtered through the branches of the ancient cypress, casting dappled shadows on him.
A young scholar, a strategist in turbulent times.
This is the beginning of his journey.