〈Romance of An-ping: Miss
Jin’s Interethnic Love Story〉14

Chapter 13 The Dutch Army Attacks the Various Villages
61

The forest path was damp and muddy. Fallen leaves were crushed under the hooves of horses, and the smell of gun oil mixed with sweat permeated the entire marching column. Dense clouds hung low, like a gray canopy pressing down upon the whole mountain wilderness. A bird call sounded ahead, followed by a fork in the road, where the Dutch army paused briefly.

Staff Officer Bakel held his horse and looked at the branching forest paths, his gaze sharp as a blade. In a cold, hard tone, he said to the accompanying officer, “Anuos, your squad will first escort those prisoners back to Fort Zeelandia. Hand them over to the Chief for personal interrogation.”

Anuos knelt on one knee and gave a military salute. “Yes, Staff Officer!” He immediately turned and gestured to several soldiers. “Quick, take them away!” The bound native prisoners, tied tightly, lowered their heads as they were escorted toward the western path of the fork. Their steps were heavy, and occasionally one or two turned back to look at the open land, their eyes hollow and despairing.

Operations Officer Blinqi rode closer, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the saddle. In an urgent tone, he asked, “Staff Officer, which village is our next target?”

Bakel did not immediately give the order. Instead, he took out a rolled sheepskin map from a leather map case, spread it over the horse’s back, and tapped a spot on it with his knuckles. “Xiaolong Village,” he said in a low voice. “According to Piyas’s testimony, their chief, Douning, is the overall commander of this joint tax resistance.”

Blinqi frowned and murmured, “That will be a tough one…”

Bakel raised his head and let out a cold laugh. “Douning prides himself on his bravery. But if we capture him, the other two villages will, like Madou Village, be seized with fear. To subdue without bloodshed—that is our best strategy.”

Blinqi’s eyes lit up. He clasped his fists and bowed slightly. “The Staff Officer is indeed farsighted, seeing matters as clearly as a mirror.”

“Enough nonsense.” Bakel swung himself onto his horse. His boots struck the horse’s belly, and the animal neighed loudly. “March immediately. Target—Xiaolong Village!”

Blinqi drew his sword, tracing an arc in the air, and shouted loudly, “Messenger!”

The messenger stood at attention. “Here!”

Blinqi spoke word by word, his tone sharp as a blade. “Transmit my order—entire army, forced march, direction north by east, strike directly at Xiaolong Village. The vanguard will lead the assault, and the rear artillery unit will follow closely!”

The messenger acknowledged the order and immediately rode to the rear of the formation. He waved the red-and-white signal flag in his hand while shouting and directing, “Form ranks! Forced march! Follow the vanguard!”

A dull horn sounded, startling the birds in the forest. The entire column resembled an iron serpent, hissing as it rushed into the depths of the mountains. Mud splashed, branches snapped, and hooves thundered like drums. The army’s advance was like an overwhelming storm, sweeping toward the next village.

In the afternoon, the wind murmured low, and moisture crept slowly up from the depths of the valley, enveloping Xiaolong Village. The verdant mountains stood silent. The drums at the village entrance had not yet been struck, yet an indescribable unease was already spreading through the air.

On a distant mountain path, a village guard came running urgently, a white pigeon still perched on his shoulder with its wings not yet folded. He gasped for breath as he stepped into the bamboo-fenced courtyard of the chief’s residence, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Reporting to the Chief!” Guard A knelt on one knee and presented a small bamboo tube tied with fine hemp cord in both hands. “Carrier pigeon message—just sent from Madou Village!”

Inside the residence, Douning was discussing matters in a low voice with his deputy Makawu. Hearing this, Makawu immediately stood up, stepped forward, took the bamboo tube from the guard, and presented it with both hands.

“Chief,” he said solemnly, “please examine it.”

Douning took the bamboo tube, opening it while his brows tightened. The handwriting on the note was hasty and scrawled, yet each word struck like an arrow.

“So it is…” Douning murmured, his expression changing abruptly, his fingers trembling slightly. “The authorities have indeed unilaterally broken their promise. The red-haired ones have already entered Madou Village. Chief Maya has been taken.”

He tossed the note aside. The slip of paper fluttered twice in the air before falling onto the wooden floor.

Makawu clenched his fists, his voice low. “It seems the red-haired army will soon reach our village… we must prepare for battle immediately.”

Douning took a deep breath and stood up. His robe fluttered slightly with his movement. He walked to the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the distant hills, and said firmly, “Ula!”

The warrior Ula at the door immediately stepped forward quickly and knelt on one knee. “Here!”

“Go at once and evacuate the elderly, the weak, the women, and the children in the village. Lead them along the stream path into the forest of the back mountains to hide. Do not make any sound that might alert the enemy. Do you understand?”

Ula nodded heavily. “Yes, Chief!” She turned and ran out of the residence, her long hair tracing an arc through the air.

For a moment, the room fell silent, with only the distant sound of birds and the wind brushing through bamboo leaves. Douning looked outside, remained silent for a moment, then suddenly turned to Makawu, a rare softness flashing in his eyes.

“Makawu… if anything happens to me, you must protect the princess.”

Makawu was taken aback. Then his brows knit, and he stepped forward, speaking with agitation. “Chief, do not say such things. As long as I am here, I will not let the red-haired ones come even half a step close to you!”

Douning lightly patted his shoulder, his gaze firm. “What you must protect is not only me—it is the future.”

After a brief silence, Douning’s eyes shifted, and his tone changed. “Gather all the warriors at the village entrance square. Prepare to meet the enemy.”

“Yes!” Makawu brought his feet together, struck his chest with his right fist, gave a low shout, then immediately turned and ran out the door toward the center of the village.

The evening light filtered through the treetops and fell upon the village path, enveloping the stone-paved square at the entrance. A confrontation concerning survival and extinction was about to arrive.

63

The afternoon sunlight was obscured by heavy clouds, and the air pressed down so heavily that it was hard to breathe. From time to time, the cries of crows echoed through the forest, as if foretelling an impending catastrophe. The bamboo groves surrounding Xiaolong Village trembled continuously. The village gate was tightly shut. The villagers held their breath in silence, while the warriors were already lying in ambush behind the walls, gripping their spears and bows tightly.

A heavy sound of footsteps came from deep within the mountain path. Dust rose as the Dutch army approached, their red and blue uniforms like blood and fire. Blinqi and Staff Officer Bakel rode at the very front of the formation, their cold eyes sweeping over the village ahead.

Bakel let out a cold laugh and said to Blinqi, “These natives are indeed stubborn. They will not even open the gate, completely different from those at Madou Village.”

Blinqi narrowed his eyes. “They will pay the price for their ignorance.”

He turned his head and shouted, “Messenger, transmit my order—launch the attack!”

The messenger immediately blew the horn. A sharp metallic sound cut through the valley. Several cannons fired at once. With a thunderous boom, the bamboo-and-mud wall exploded into a huge breach. Fragments of mud and bursts of flame flew together, and screams and roars intertwined into a chaotic symphony.

Dutch soldiers surged into the village like a tide. Rifles, bayonets, and spears clashed, and sprays of blood blossomed upon the muddy ground. The yellow-scarved warriors of Xiaolong Village resisted bravely, fighting to the death in defense.

Makawu led a group of warriors in a desperate defense of the chief’s residence, his body already stained with blood in many places. As he swung his spear to block attacks, he shouted to Douning, “Go quickly—I will cover you!”

But in the next moment, a Dutch rifleman hiding behind a wall suddenly pulled the trigger. A flash burst forth. Makawu was shot in the chest. His body jerked violently, and he staggered before collapsing.

Douning turned back and saw this, his expression changing abruptly. Just as he was about to rush forward to save him, two soldiers pounced from the side and pinned his arms down.

Bakel raised his hand and shouted to the entire army, “The native chief has been captured—relay the order, withdraw all forces!”

The messenger blew the horn again. Amid the low, heavy sound, the Dutch army quickly gathered their dead and wounded. While retreating and firing, they dragged Douning toward the village entrance.

Inside the village, amid the flames, Princess Yimena, clad in armor, her eyes reddened, rushed toward the front line with a short bow in hand. More than a dozen warriors followed behind her.

At a glance, she saw Douning being taken away. She raised her bow to shoot, but Ula grabbed her at once.

“Princess, you must not pursue!” Ula tightly held her arm, her expression stern. “The Dutch army has powerful firepower. If they have set an ambush outside the village, any pursuing force will surely die!”

Yimena glared angrily and struggled to break free. “Do you expect me to watch my sena being taken away? Ula, if you are afraid of death, then do not follow—I will pursue alone!”

Ula suddenly stepped in front of her, spreading her arms, her voice low and firm. “Princess, can you calm down and listen to me? First, I am a Yellow-Scarf warrior. I have the duty to protect you and cannot allow any harm to come to you. Second, with the Chief in enemy hands, if we rashly pursue, we may put her in even greater danger. Third, if they realize we are pursuing, they may act desperately and harm the Chief. Are you willing to let that happen?”

Yimena bit her lower lip tightly. Tears welled in her eyes. Her fists clenched so hard that her knuckles turned white. “Ula… I am truly worried about her safety…”

Ula’s tone softened slightly. She said gently, “I understand your feelings, Princess. But you must be strong. The Chief will not be killed so easily. They captured her to force us into submission. This is their strategy—they will not act rashly.”

Yimena asked in a trembling voice, “Are you certain… that she will truly be safe?”

Ula placed her hand on her shoulder, her tone firm. “Please trust me, Princess. What we must do now is immediately contact the other villages and work together to formulate a rescue plan. We will bring her back. We will not let her face the enemy alone.”

At last, the princess nodded. She turned her head to look toward the distant mountain path. The Dutch army had already retreated into the forest, leaving behind only scorched earth and ruins.

A light rain began to fall from the sky, as if quietly weeping for the fallen Makawu and for Douning, who had been taken away.

66

The ox cart creaked as it slowly moved along the narrow dirt road, its wheels sinking deeply into the damp earth. The night gradually deepened, and moonlight threaded through the trees, casting mottled patches of light and shadow that swayed with the movement of the cart. From time to time, the croaking of frogs and the cries of night birds drifted across the grass, making the surroundings seem especially tranquil. However, this tranquility could not conceal the anxiety and urgency in people’s hearts.

Under Wula’s guidance, Junsheng and his wife, together with Wami, carried the necessary medicines and hurried toward Xiaolong Village. As the ox cart entered the village entrance, the guards ahead had already noticed the movement. A villager guard ran over in haste to report, and soon afterward, Yimena and several guards arrived at the scene.

Yimena stood beneath the moonlight, her figure appearing tall and resolute. When she saw the approaching cart, she immediately quickened her pace and went forward with a trace of urgency on her face. Her shoes stepped lightly on the dirt, making faint sounds. When she reached them, she dropped to one knee, her slightly breathless voice carried by the wind. Lowering her head, she spoke in a firm and urgent tone, “Doctor, we have more than a dozen wounded. Several are in critical condition. Please do your utmost to save them.”

Junsheng hurried forward and gently supported the princess by her shoulders. His palms were slightly damp with sweat, yet his tone remained steady. “Princess, please rise. We will do everything we can to save the wounded.” He gently helped her to her feet, deep concern evident in his eyes.

Yimena nodded slightly, then turned and led the group toward the assembly hall. Her steps were somewhat hurried, yet each step revealed her determination. Junsheng and Shayun followed behind, while Wami and Wula carried the medicines, keeping close pace.

When the group arrived at the assembly hall, the interior was dimly lit, and the atmosphere was heavy. The air was filled with the smell of medicinal herbs and blood, and the wooden structures around creaked faintly in the wind. Several injured villagers lay on the ground, groaning in pain, while those gathered around them all wore anxious expressions.

Junsheng entered the room, observed the situation, and softly said to Shayun, “Shayun, I will treat the severely wounded first. You handle the lightly injured.” His tone carried calmness and focus—this was his habit when facing the wounded.

Shayun nodded slightly, then turned to prepare the medicines. Her tone was gentle yet firm. “Alright, we’ll divide the work.”

The couple quickly threw themselves into their tasks, while Wami and Wula assisted them respectively. Wami stepped beside Junsheng and carefully opened a box containing various instruments. He picked up a surgical kit and handed it to Junsheng with caution, his voice tinged with nervousness. “Here you are, Doctor.”

Junsheng took the surgical kit, quickly checked the instruments inside, and nodded to Wami. “Thank you, Wami.” His tone was steady. He then focused and began performing surgery on a severely wounded patient. The blade flashed—despite the critical situation, every one of his movements was precise and decisive.

Meanwhile, Shayun was applying medicine and bandaging another patient. Her hands moved skillfully and gently. Wula stood beside her, lightly supporting the upper body of the injured man and assisting her in completing the bandaging. Wula’s hands held the patient steadily, her gaze focused, her face filled with a sense of responsibility. “Alright, Shayun, please be careful,” she reminded softly.

Shayun smiled slightly, signaling her to maintain the patient’s position, then lowered her head and continued working. Her movements were graceful yet resolute, occasionally smoothing the bandages with her fingers. Her eyes were full of concentration—each movement was like a race against time.

Not far away, Yimena stood with several guards and the families of the wounded, forming a circle. Their eyes revealed anxiety and hope. Some spoke in low voices, while others prayed silently. Yimena stood among them, occasionally looking toward Junsheng and his wife, her gaze filled with gratitude and expectation, yet also with uncontrollable worry.

In this tense atmosphere, only the busy figures in the room and the occasional soft exchanges broke the silence. Everyone was doing their utmost in their respective roles. Whether it was the doctors providing treatment or Yimena standing by in support, each person was giving their all for those wounded who stood on the brink between life and death.

67

Inside the reception room of the Dominican church in Provintia, candlelight cast mottled shadows upon the old wooden furniture, and the air was filled with the scent of wood and faint candle smoke. The atmosphere in the church was extraordinarily heavy—every corner seemed filled with unspoken words and unresolved crises. The crosses on the surrounding walls appeared especially silent in the dim candlelight, like voiceless witnesses listening to everything that was about to unfold.

Matthews stood before a long table, his brows deeply furrowed, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes revealing both intense चिंता and determination. He lowered his head slightly, his tone filled with strong concern as he said, “Bishop, you must step forward. Do not let the situation escalate further.” He stood upright, his lips trembling slightly, clearly under considerable pressure.

Bishop Ganchis sat at one end of the long table, his expression dark, his face filled with anger and dissatisfaction. The candlelight illuminated his stern features, making them appear even more severe. His hands were crossed on the table as he leaned forward slightly, his tone full of irritation. “That old fox Peter is outrageous—he deceived us and directly sent troops into the villages to arrest people, deliberately making the situation uncontrollable.” He snorted coldly, a flash of anger passing through his eyes. He could no longer tolerate Peter’s actions.

Standing beside him, Pliny frowned slightly. Fully aware of the gravity of the situation, he stepped forward and spoke cautiously yet firmly, “Bishop, I’m afraid this matter must be handled by the Archbishop. Only by applying pressure on the Dutch royal court will Peter restrain himself.” His voice was low, carrying a sense of helpless appeal. He knew that without stronger measures, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Upon hearing this, Bishop Ganchis suddenly stood up, pointing toward the window, his tone impassioned. “Peter broke his word and outmaneuvered us, forcing me to take this step—to write to the Archbishop and lodge a formal complaint.” He paced a couple of steps, appearing anxious and restless, anger burning in his eyes. “Pliny, go to the merchants’ guild and help me contact Chairman George and Chairman Louis. Tomorrow, we will go to the Governor’s office to rescue the chiefs he has taken, and demand an explanation from Peter.” His voice now carried the tone of a command, filled with determination and unquestionable authority.

Pliny straightened immediately and instinctively bowed, showing respect and seriousness toward the bishop’s order. His tone was swift and resolute. “Yes, Bishop. I will go at once.” Without further words, he turned to leave, his steps quick and steady, clearly driven by the urgency of the situation, his inner anxiety visible in every stride.

At this moment, Matthews remained where he stood, his hands clenched tightly, his brows still furrowed, as if still contemplating future plans of action. He slowly walked toward the window and looked out at the night sky. The stars shimmered, yet they could not dispel the heaviness in his heart.

68

On a gloomy afternoon thick with dark clouds, outside the gate of the Governor’s office at Fort Zeelandia, armored musketeers stood in ranks on both sides. Their steel guns gleamed with a cold light still damp with moisture, like iron beasts ready to act at any moment. The three visitors’ figures appeared especially heavy amid the drizzle and oppressive atmosphere.

Bishop Ganchis, clad in a damp and cold black robe, wore a stern expression as he stepped into the hall, unable to suppress a slight frown. Behind him were two foreign merchant guild leaders—George, slender with sharp eyes, and Louis, bearded and restless in demeanor. As soon as the three entered, they felt a weight pressing upon them like lead.

Inside the hall, Governor Peter stood before a map, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression cold. His attendant hurriedly announced the visitors. Peter slowly turned around, a half-smile on his face, his tone cold yet tinged with arrogance.

Ganchis looked directly at Peter and said in a deep voice, “Governor, I have heard that you sent troops into the four northern villages, captured their chiefs, and engaged in armed conflict with the natives, causing casualties. Is this what you call a peaceful resolution?”

Peter’s lips curled into a sneer. He walked slowly to the table, tapping it lightly with his fingers, and said word by word, “I didn’t expect your information network to be so efficient—to catch wind of this so quickly.”

George could not contain his anger. He stepped forward and pointed directly at Peter’s chest. “Previously, in a public meeting, you promised to resolve the tax resistance peacefully. Yet now you have broken your word and used military force against the natives. If this is not retaliation, can it be called justice?”

Peter turned away, poured himself a glass of wine from the cabinet, and took a sip. His tone was disdainful. “My earlier concession was merely a tactical measure. Have you heard of the Chinese strategist Sun Tzu?—‘All warfare is based on deception.’ I never promised that there would be no reckoning afterward.”

“What a ‘warfare is based on deception’!” Louis slammed his palm heavily on the table, causing the wine glass to shake and spill a few drops. “Governor, you have made fools of all our merchant guilds. Are you not afraid that this incident will spread to Europe and provoke joint military and trade sanctions against your country?”

Peter shrugged, completely unconcerned. “Sanctions? If they are willing to withdraw, I would welcome it. That way, we Dutch can monopolize the wealth of this land without having to share it with you.”

George sneered, gripping his hat tightly. “You’ve finally spoken the truth. You Dutch have intended from the very beginning to dominate everything, completely disregarding all our merchant guilds!”

Peter leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze sharp as a blade. “These disobedient chiefs should have been punished long ago. I want them to understand who the true master of this land is.”

At last, Bishop Ganchis rose in anger, his expression stern like that of a judge. “Governor, you have broken your word and acted arbitrarily. If you do not immediately release those four chiefs and restore order at once, I will report this in full detail to the Archbishop of Europe and request that he personally apply pressure on the Dutch royal court to demand justice from you!”

At these words, Peter’s anger flared. He suddenly stood up and slammed the table. “Make it clear—my superior is Governor Putmans of Batavia, not you! Whether it is your Dominican order or the European merchant guilds, none of you will command me!”

The atmosphere tightened like a drawn bowstring. For a moment, the room fell silent. The three exchanged glances, knowing there was no turning back.

Louis gritted his teeth. “Since you believe you can dominate everything here, we will bring this matter onto the international stage and let all of Europe see your country’s true face!”

Peter snorted coldly and turned sharply to his attendant. “Escort them out! These uninvited guests have said enough.”

Suppressing their anger, Ganchis and the others turned and left. Their footsteps struck the stone floor of the office, each step ringing like a heavy warning bell.

As the door closed, the tension suddenly eased. Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “These fellows really know how to spoil the mood. With this continuous rain these days, my joints are starting to ache again.”

At that moment, Bosimen stepped forward and lowered his voice. “Governor, I’ve heard from locals that there is a doctor named Junsheng associated with the Dominican order. His medical skills are excellent. His wife is also skilled in Chinese medicine—many say they are highly capable.”

Peter frowned in thought, then snorted. “But isn’t that doctor always sympathetic to the natives? I’m afraid he won’t help me.”

Bosimen nodded with a bitter smile. “Yes, and he has no interest in money, making him difficult to bribe—let alone force him…”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Is this doctor really that troublesome? Go find him. Try negotiating first—see how many gold coins he wants. If that doesn’t work, I will deal with him personally.”

Bosimen hesitated slightly, but still nodded. “Yes, Governor. I will make the arrangements.”

Peter sat back down, rubbing his knee, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He looked out at the rain-soaked sky, his gaze like a blade in the rain—cold and razor-sharp.

69

Chikan Village, at dusk.
The setting sun slanted into Chief Dabanya’s residence, the wooden beams casting oblique shadows in the dim yellow light. A single oil lamp burned in the hall, its flame flickering unsteadily, while the air carried the bitter fragrance of boiling tea and the smoky scent of cured animal hides.

In the center of the living room, before a low table covered with animal skins, Chief Dabanya sat on a couch, her brows tightly furrowed, a letter she had just received clutched in her hand, her knuckles pale. Opposite her sat her husband, Li Qinghua, dressed in a slightly faded blue long gown, calmly pouring tea.

“Master,” Dabanya lifted her head, her tone urgent yet restrained, “I’ve just received news that Xiaolong Village has been attacked by the red-haired army, with many casualties… and Maya of Madou Village has also been taken…” Her voice faltered, her throat trembling slightly. “Should we… bring Shayin and Junsheng back?”

Li Qinghua handed her the teacup while looking into her anxiety-filled eyes, and said in a deep voice, “I suppose by now, Junsheng and Shayin have already rushed to Xiaolong Village, surely to treat the wounded. Those two—especially Shayin, who is soft-hearted—how could they stand by and do nothing in the face of death?”

Dabanya clasped her hands on her knees, her nails digging into her palms, and asked softly, “Then… what should we do? Are we to do nothing?”

Li Qinghua sighed gently, placing the teacup back on the table, his gaze as deep as an ancient well. “If you truly cannot let it go, then send Kali to make a trip. He knows that area well.”

At this moment, the young boy Dalai, who had been standing in a corner of the hall, interjected, “Sena, let me go with him. I want to help too!”

Dabanya frowned and turned to look at her son, her tone stern. “No! You are still young. You should not go to such a dangerous place.”

Dalai stepped forward, fists clenched, his gaze resolute. “But I’m already fifteen! I will listen to Kali and won’t cause trouble.”

Li Qinghua patted Dalai’s shoulder, a trace of approval appearing in his eyes. “Let him go with Kali. It’s also a good opportunity for him to gain experience. The times have changed—men should learn to walk into the storm.”

Dabanya pondered for a moment, then finally nodded, her tone softening somewhat. “Alright… then go find Kali at once. Tell him to prepare tonight and set out tomorrow morning.”

Dalai’s eyes lit up, and he almost jumped with excitement. “I’ll go right now, Sena!”

He turned and dashed out of the hall, his figure swift as a deer. The last rays of the setting sun shone by the doorway, outlining his youthful and determined silhouette.

Dabanya watched her son’s retreating figure, her heart filled with mixed emotions, and murmured softly, “I hope this journey won’t make him see the cruelty of this world too soon…”

Li Qinghua took her hand and said gently, “No matter how chaotic this world becomes, there are some things we can only let him learn on his own…”

70

The evening sunlight dyed the sky over Xiaolong Village red. Cooking smoke slowly rose among the bamboo huts. Outside the assembly hall, voices buzzed loudly as villagers busied themselves caring for the wounded. The atmosphere was chaotic yet carried a tense sense of order.

Ali’s ox cart came to a creaking halt on the sandy ground, the axle groaning and startling a young guard nearby. As the cart cover was lifted, Kali nimbly jumped down, and from behind came faint snoring.

“Dalai, wake up, we’re here.” Lalu patted Dalai’s shoulder.

Dalai rubbed his eyes and sat up, his hair sticking out messily, still drowsy. “Oh… where are my sister and brother-in-law?”

Before he finished speaking, Shayin had already walked over. Her simple clothes were stained with a few spots of blood, her expression weary but her gaze gentle.

“You sleepyhead, your sister is right in front of you.” Shayin smiled as she rubbed Dalai’s hair, her tone filled with comfort and affection.

Kali frowned slightly and said, “The chief was worried about you, so she sent us to come support you.”

Shayin nodded, then upon seeing the wooden box on the cart, she asked in surprise, “Ali, you brought the medicine chest too?”

Ali smiled and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “The chief said you would definitely need it, so we hurried to deliver it.”

A trace of emotion welled up in Shayin’s eyes, and she immediately gave instructions, “Kali, help me unload the medicine chest and carry it into the assembly hall. Ali, come with me to help change the dressings for the wounded.”

Lalu immediately raised her hand. “I’ll help too. Ali, teach me how to do it.”

Ali raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Sure—but don’t be afraid of blood.”

Kali picked up the medicine chest and couldn’t help but smile wryly. “So I’m just a laborer?”

Ali burst out laughing. “If you can’t treat injuries or bandage wounds, what else can you do besides carry things?”

Kali shook his head with a bitter smile. “At least I can contribute some strength.”

Amid laughter, the group walked into the assembly hall. The air was filled with the mixed smell of medicinal herbs and fresh blood, and the dim oil lamps cast mottled shadows.

At that moment, a familiar figure hurried through the crowd—it was Bosimen. His face was full of urgency, and as soon as he entered, he went straight toward Kali.

“Bosimen? What wind blew you here?” Kali raised an eyebrow and asked.

Bosimen replied breathlessly, “If I hadn’t said I came to find the doctor, Wula at the gate wouldn’t even have let me in.”

Kali waved his hand. “You’re here to see a doctor too?”

“Why would I need that?” Bosimen smiled mysteriously. “The doctor is inside, right? I have something urgent to discuss with him.”

Kali’s expression darkened slightly, thinking to himself, “This guy always shows up at the strangest times.”

Bosimen said no more and walked straight through the crowd toward Shayin and Junsheng. Junsheng was bandaging a wounded villager; when he saw Bosimen, he nodded slightly.

“Doctor, let’s talk inside the room.” Bosimen lowered his voice, lightly patting Junsheng’s arm, his gaze firm.

Junsheng paused for a moment, handed off his task to Shayin, and followed him into the inner room. Kali quietly set down the wooden box, tiptoed to the door, and pressed his ear against it.

“Sorry, doctor—lend me your ear.” Bosimen lowered his voice and whispered a few words into Junsheng’s ear.

Junsheng’s expression changed, and he asked in a low voice, “Did the chief really say that?”

Bosimen spread his hands. “Of course. The chief told me to pass on the message—how would I dare alter it?”

Junsheng pondered for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll make some arrangements and come right away.”

Bosimen said, “I’ll wait for you outside by the square, doctor.”

Hearing their footsteps approaching, Kali immediately slipped into the shadows by the wall. Bosimen passed by him calmly. Junsheng, carrying his medical kit, walked quickly toward Shayin.

“Shayin, I need to go out for a while. I’ll be back before noon tomorrow,” Junsheng said as he fastened his straps.

“Where are you going? Do you want Kali to go with you?” Shayin asked with concern in her eyes.

“No need. Bosimen will accompany me,” Junsheng replied calmly, though his eyes flickered slightly.

Shayin frowned but did not press further. She only said, “Then go and come back early.”

Kali then leaned closer and whispered, “Shayin, don’t you think it’s strange that Bosimen showed up at this time?”

Shayin looked thoughtfully at Junsheng’s departing figure. “Yes… but if Junsheng doesn’t want to say, I shouldn’t press him.”

Kali lowered his voice. “I just overheard them mention ‘the chief.’ Could this be some important figure?”

Shayin’s expression changed. “Junsheng… could he be going with Bosimen to Fort Zeelandia to meet that red-haired leader?”

Kali’s eyes lit up. “Now that you say it, it’s very possible! How about I secretly follow them and protect him from the shadows?”

Shayin shook her head. “No. If he finds out, he won’t be happy. And you can’t get into Fort Zeelandia anyway.”

She thought for a moment, then her eyes brightened. “I’ve got it! Take a shortcut to Madou Village and ask Father Matthews to go to the gates of Fort Zeelandia to meet Junsheng. With the priest accompanying him, Junsheng should feel more at ease—and we can also find out what Bosimen is really up to.”

Kali clenched his fist and responded, “Alright, I’ll go right now!”

He strode quickly toward the ox cart, pulled down a long blade from the side, strapped it to his back, turned to nod at Shayin, and then dashed into the twilight.

Lalu came over holding bandages, frowning as she asked, “Shayin, what is my brother up to? Why did he disappear like a gust of wind?”

Shayin replied calmly, “I asked him to do something for me. He’ll be back soon.”

Lalu looked at her suspiciously. “Oh…?”

She turned her head and muttered softly, “Junsheng just left, and then my brother left right after—what on earth are they up to?”