HCB Chapter 622 The Exiles of 8ga Island 3
Chapter 622 The Exiles of 8ga Island 3
He discovered many noteworthy details on the island.
First were the Japanese. These natives were divided into two types: one was the original inhabitants of the islands, whom the Qin people called "native Japanese," who were mostly engaged in farming and fishing; the other was slaves captured or traded from the Japanese islands, called "slave Japanese," who mainly worked in the mines. The native Japanese were treated slightly better, with fixed residences and the ability to retain some of their harvest; the slave Japanese, on the other hand, were purely expendable, dying from overwork, disease, or mining accidents, which the Qin people did not care about.
Secondly, there was the Qin army. There were 3,200 Qin soldiers permanently stationed on the island, divided into four units: mine guards, farmland patrols, port guards, and generals' personal guards. Most of these soldiers were from Guanzhong, with a few former soldiers who had surrendered from the six states. To Yan Mu's surprise, the Qin army had a strict hierarchy but also a clear system of rewards and punishments. Squad leaders and platoon leaders were selected from among the soldiers, and even commoners could be promoted for meritorious service.
Most importantly, there was a system. Li Xin established a complete management system on the island: daily morning meetings to assign tasks, midday checks to assess progress, and final acceptance of results before sunset. There were mini-exams every ten days and major exams every month, with the results posted on a wooden board at the camp gate. The names of the outstanding performers were written in vermilion, while those of the laggards were written in ink, making it immediately clear who was who.
Yan Mu had personally witnessed a Qin army corporal being publicly flogged thirty times and demoted to a regular soldier for withholding the Japanese's reward rations. Meanwhile, a Japanese laborer was promoted to team leader, managing ten Japanese, and his food rations were improved because he had the highest mining output for three consecutive months.
"The Qin people's method is truly ingenious," Wei Chang whispered to Yan Mu in the accounting room. Because of his expertise in mathematics, the old clansman was allowed to tutor the young exiles in the evenings, and Yan Mu often went to listen to his lectures.
"Use incentives and punishments to motivate everyone to strive for advancement and have no time for anything else." Wei Chang pointed to the account book. "Look, this island produced 800 catties of gold, 2,000 catties of silver, and 5,000 catties of copper last year. Li Xin transported half of these minerals back to Xianyang, and used the other half for construction on the island—expanding the port, fortifying the camps, building water conservancy projects, and establishing elementary schools."
"Is he managing a fiefdom?" Yan Mu asked.
“A fiefdom?” Wei Chang shook his head. “This is Qin’s overseas territory. Li Xin has to submit a detailed report to Xianyang every quarter. All accounts are in triplicate: one copy is kept on the island, one copy is sent to the governor of Langya County, and one copy goes directly to Xianyang. Although the King of Qin is thousands of miles away, he knows this island like the back of his hand.”
Yan Mu's heart stirred: "Uncle, did you have a chance to see those reports?"
Wei Chang glanced at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "I only manage the internal accounts; the external accounts and reports are handled by Li Xin's trusted confidants." He paused, then lowered his voice, "Nephew, I know you are devoted to your homeland, but there are many eyes and ears on the island. Do not act rashly."
Yan Mu remained silent. He was indeed secretly contacting other exiles. Initially, many responded, but as time went on, more and more people began to hesitate.
“Brother Yan, it’s not that we’ve forgotten our roots,” a young member of the royal family said to him privately. “It’s just that the island has a strict system, and as long as you work hard, you will definitely have no worries about food and clothing. I did well in the assessment last month, and the squad leader has agreed to transfer me to the school as a teaching assistant next month—that’s an easy job, and I can learn more about Qin characters and Qin laws.”
"Have you forgotten that you are from Wei?" Yan Mu said angrily.
The man smiled bitterly: "What good is it to remember? The Wei Kingdom is gone, and the ancestral temples are destroyed. All I want now is to live. If I can accumulate some merit, perhaps I can really return to the Central Plains, marry a wife, have children, and continue my bloodline. Brother Yan, one must always look forward."
Yan Mu had heard similar words many times. Hatred seemed distant and a luxury in the face of survival. What frustrated him even more was that he discovered most of the Japanese were not as resistant to Qin rule as he had imagined.
Once, at a mine, he saw several Japanese laborers receiving dried fish and rice wine as a reward. They actually knelt and kowtowed to the Qin army overseers, speaking in Japanese that he couldn't understand, but the gratitude on their faces was genuine.
"What are they saying?" Yan Mu asked Jing Jiu.
Jing Jiu said coldly, "They say the Qin people are better than their original chiefs. At least here, if you work, you get food; if you don't work, you get beaten. The rules are clear."
"Have they forgotten that the Qin people forced them to drink sterilization drugs?"
Jing Jiu turned to look at him, her eyes like knives: "So you think their original life was better? Killing each other, exchanging children to eat, and a plague killing half a tribe?"
Yan Mu was speechless.
Jing Jiu ignored him and turned to walk deeper into the mine. Yan Mu watched his retreating figure, his mind filled with suspicion. This Jing Jiu possessed astonishing strength and eyes as sharp as an eagle. Although he was doing the work of a foreman, he exuded an undeniable murderous aura. More importantly, Yan Mu had once inadvertently witnessed Jing Jiu practicing swordsmanship alone deep within the mine—his swordsmanship was exquisite, far beyond the capabilities of an ordinary martial artist.
Who is he?
Three miles east of the mine, there is a relatively gentle slope with a dozen or so wooden houses. This is the Music Workshop, the island's music teaching center.
In the afternoon, sunlight streamed through the wooden windows into the room, and dust particles floated in the air. A dozen or so Japanese apprentices knelt on straw mats, with various musical instruments on their laps: zithers, zhu, se, and even a few traditional Japanese bamboo flutes and drums.
The musician who taught them sat at the head of the table. He was a man in his thirties from the Central Plains, with a thin face, closed eyes, and deep-set eye sockets—he was blind.
Gao Jianli, once a renowned zither master in the Yan and Zhao regions, was a close friend of Jing Ke. Three years prior, he had failed in his assassination attempt on the King of Qin in Xianyang and was exiled here. In an attempt to get closer to Ying Zheng, he blinded himself, but ultimately failed.
"Today we will practice 'Qin Feng: No Clothes'." Gao Jianli's voice was calm and even as he gently stroked the Qin zither on his lap. "Listen to me play it once first."
The strings were plucked, and a clear, resonant sound flowed forth. The melody was stirring and passionate, a war song of the Qin army, the lyrics singing of the camaraderie among soldiers who shared a common destiny and faced national crisis together. Although the Japanese apprentices couldn't understand the lyrics, they were moved by the powerful rhythm, and many nodded and clapped along.
When the piece ended, Gao Jianli said calmly, "This piece is not difficult; the key is the rhythm. You may practice the first eight sections first."
The apprentices began practicing, and the music workshop was soon filled with uneven sounds of their instruments. Gao Jianli listened intently, occasionally correcting them: "The third string is too low." "The rhythm here is half a beat too fast."
One of the Japanese apprentices played particularly poorly, and after making several mistakes, he put down his instrument in frustration. Although Gao Jianli couldn't see it, he seemed to sense it: "Kimura, come here."
The Japanese apprentice named Kimura crawled forward on his knees. Gao Jianli held out his hand: "Give me your hand."
Kimura hesitated before placing his hand in the musician's. Gao Jianli's fingers traced his fingertips, then touched his palm: "Your nails are too long, which affects your ability to press the strings. And your fingertips are too soft; you need to practice more." He paused, "What did you do before?"
Through a translator—a young man from Qin who understood basic Japanese—Kimura answered, "Fishing."
Gao Jianli nodded: "A fisherman's hand shouldn't be so weak. You're slacking off."
Kimura lowered his head. Gao Jianli released his hand: "Keep practicing. If you can't master the first eight sections today, your dinner will be halved."