ushernet Chapter 621 The Exiles of 8ga Island 2
Chapter 621 The Exiles of 8ga Island 2
“I… am well-versed in mathematics,” Wei Chang said, coming to his rescue. “I am Wei Chang, and I once served as the Grand Chancellor of the State of Wei, in charge of the national treasury’s finances for twenty years.”
Hu Hai looked at Wei Chang and nodded: "Good. The mine is short of bookkeepers, you report to the accounting office tomorrow." He then looked at Yan Mu, "And you?"
Yan Mu gritted his teeth: "I am skilled in swordsmanship."
A soft chuckle came from the surroundings—what use is swordsmanship in a mine?
Hu Hai seemed to be deep in thought: "Although private fights are forbidden on the island, there are monthly martial arts assessments. If you are truly skilled in swordsmanship, you can participate in the assessment. Those who excel can receive extra rations and may even be promoted to squad leader or platoon leader."
These words left the exiles looking at each other in bewilderment. What surprised them even more was the subsequent allocation: each person was given shelter—though it was just a simple hut made of rammed earth with a thatched roof, it did provide shelter from the wind and rain. Inside, there were already basic necessities: two earthenware bowls, a wooden spoon, and a straw mat. There were even two sets of coarse linen clothes for changing.
"What are the Qin people trying to do?" After being assigned lodgings, a young member of the royal family couldn't help but ask. "They exiled us, yet they provided us with lodgings and clothing, and even set up schools and examinations... Are they trying to torture us or to educate us?"
Wei Chang sat on a straw mat, looking around the small hut, which was no more than a square foot in size. On the wall hung a bamboo scroll with excerpts of Qin law, in the corner was piled unchopped firewood, and outside the door was a ceramic jar filled with water.
“It seems they not only want us to work,” the old clansman said slowly, “but also want us to settle here, and even… reproduce.”
On the second morning after arriving at Baga Island, before dawn, the sound of horns resounded throughout the entire island.
Yan Mu was startled awake from his straw mat. He hurriedly put on his coarse linen clothes and followed the others to the open space outside to assemble. The morning mist was thick, and only a few figures could be vaguely seen standing on the high platform ahead.
Torches were lit, dispelling the fog. On the high platform, a general in black armor and a scarlet cloak stood imposingly. He was about forty years old, with a resolute face; he was none other than Li Xin, the garrison commander of Baga Island.
Four years ago, Li Xin was sent here by the King of Qin. No one expected that in four years, he would manage this remote island so well.
"Newcomers, listen to my command." Li Xin's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears. "From this day forward, you are all citizens of Baga Island. There are three rules on the island that you must remember."
He raised his first finger: "First, each person performs their duties and completes their quota. Japanese craftsmen work seven hours a day without rest days; those exiled from the Central Plains work six hours a day and can rest four days a month."
A slight commotion arose from the audience. Seven hours? That means working from dawn till dusk?
Li Xin remained unmoved and raised his second finger: "Second, private fights are strictly prohibited, violators will be beheaded. If there is any dispute, it can be reported to the squad leader or sergeant, and the military judge will make a ruling."
The third finger is raised: "Third, intermarriage and adultery with Japanese people are strictly prohibited. Violators will be castrated and exiled. Japanese men and women have already taken sterilization drugs, so don't make a mistake for yourselves."
This last point completely shocked the exiles. A sterilization drug? Were the Qin people really this ruthless?
Li Xin's gaze swept across the audience below as he continued, "The island implements an assessment and reward system. Those who work diligently and possess superb skills will not only have their food, clothing, and housing upgraded, but will also be promoted step by step. The one who mines the most will receive an extra pound of meat per month; the one who weaves the fastest will receive an extra three feet of cloth; and the one who learns to read the fastest can enter the document room to assist with copying. Those who excel can apply to return to the Central Plains after three years."
Return to the Central Plains! These four words, like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirred up ripples in the hearts of the exiles.
“Of course,” Li Xin changed the subject, “those who are lazy, negligent, or harbor wicked intentions will also be punished. The lightest punishment is reduced food and whipping, while the heaviest is being thrown into the deepest part of the mine, never to see the light of day again.”
After the morning assembly, the exiles were assigned to various places. The young and strong went to the mines, the old and weak went to the fields, the women went to the weaving workshops, and the children—whether Qin, Wei, or Wa—who were six years old or older, all entered elementary schools.
Yan Mu was assigned to the mine. As he walked up the winding mountain path, the clanging and hammering sounds grew louder and louder. Rounding a bend in the mountain, the view suddenly opened up: dozens of mine shafts had been carved into the entire mountainside, with Japanese laborers going in and out of each one, carrying bamboo baskets full of ore on their backs. Overseers, whips in hand, patrolled the area.
"You, go to Mine No. 3." A Qin army corporal with a fierce face pointed at Yan Mu.
Mine No. 3 was the largest and deepest. Yan Mu bent down and entered the tunnel, where the light instantly dimmed. Torches were stuck on both sides of the passageway, barely illuminating the way ahead. The further he went in, the more murky the air became, mixed with the smells of sweat, earth, and a metallic stench.
Deep inside the mine, dozens of Japanese laborers were hammering at the rock walls with pickaxes. They were almost naked, with only tattered rags around their waists, and their bodies were covered in mud and grime, with only their eyes and teeth occasionally reflecting light in the darkness.
"New here? Go over there and get your tools." A hoarse voice came from over there.
Yan Mu turned his head and saw that the speaker was a man from the Central Plains, about thirty years old, with dark skin, bulging muscles, and an unusually fierce appearance. He held an iron pickaxe in his hand, the tip of which was polished to a gleaming shine.
"You are……"
"Jing Jiu, foreman of Mine No. 3," the man said simply, tossing Yan Mu a pickaxe. "Daily quota: thirty baskets of ore. If you don't finish, no dinner."
Yan Mu took the pickaxe, finding it heavy in his hand. He had practiced martial arts since childhood and was quite strong, but looking at the bamboo baskets carried by the Japanese laborers—each basket weighing at least fifty or sixty pounds—his heart sank.
On the first day, Yan Mu only completed fifteen baskets. His arms ached so much he could barely lift them, blisters formed on the back of his hands, and the skin on his palms cracked. At dinner, he indeed only received half a bowl of thin porridge, while Wei Ren, who had completed his quota, received millet rice and even a small piece of salted fish in his bowl.
Yan Mu silently drank his porridge, overhearing a discussion among the earlier-arriving exiles at the next table:
"I heard that Mr. Wei Chang has been assigned to the accounting department. The work is easy, and he can get an extra ration."
"Who told him to be so good at mathematics? The Qin system doesn't care about background, it only cares about ability."
"Skills? What skills do we have? Farming? Mining? Back in Wei, we were hardly qualified to do those lowly jobs."
"We still have to do it. Are we really going to starve to death on this remote island overseas?"
Yan Mu put down his bowl and went outside. Dusk was falling, and lights flickered across the island. The sound of hammering could still be heard from the direction of the mine—those were working late into the night to meet their quotas. From the school, the voices of children reciting their lessons drifted on the breeze.
"Laws are the lifeblood of the people and the foundation of governance..."
He looked up at the sky; the night sky over the island was exceptionally clear, and the Milky Way was dazzling. One star in particular shone brightly, pointing northwest—the direction of the Central Plains.
"Grandfather," Yan Mu murmured to himself, "I will never forget the hatred for the country and the family."
A month later, Yan Mu and the other exiles gradually adapted to life on the island.
Yan Mu's hands developed thick calluses, and he was able to complete his daily quota. He even occasionally carried a few more baskets and received extra rewards because of his strength and speed. But the hatred in his heart never subsided; instead, it burned even more fiercely with each day's labor.