Renjie and his family, Renhua and his wife, and Peng Aqiang and his wife were to occupy one room. The others were to sleep on the floor of the hall. This arrangement had been decided upon long ago, but as there were now two men from outside the immediate family with them, Peng Aqiang decided that the women and children should take two rooms, he would take the third room along with Aling and Ahan, and his four sons would sleep in the hall. The rooms were all empty of any furnishings; beds would have to wait until the family could cut the cassia bamboo and construct the bedframes themselves.

  There were no lamps in the mountain villages, as kerosene was too expensive. Split cassia bamboo or pitch pine torches were the most common form of lighting. When the torch that Uncle Ajin had brought was extinguished, the entire house was plunged into utter darkness. The sky was raven black, and not a speck of starlight was to be seen on winter nights. When the mountain winds blew through the roof thatch, it made a sound not unlike ocean waves. Peng Aqiang wondered if he was hearing the sea or the wind.

  Half asleep, Peng Aqiang could no longer clearly distinguish the sounds that came to his ears. The sounds seemed to come from all around him, from outside and inside. The sound of the wind, which had already taken on a certain familiarity, seemed at once to come from both near and far. The wind continued to blow through the doors and windows, growing colder and stronger.

  The women shared two quilts; Peng Aqiang and the two escorts shared another, while Peng’s four sons shared another. There really were not enough blankets. All they could do was feel around in the dark for the sacks of potatoes, which they emptied in the corner. They then used the emptied sacks as bedding to keep the cold away. That had been part of their plan for getting through the winter.

  It was cold, very cold, without a glimmer of lamplight to be seen.

  That was how the Pengs spent their first night in Fanzai Wood. It was the twenty-fourth day of the eleventh month in the sixteenth year of the Guangxu era (1890) by the old calendar.

  TWO

  •

  Days on Guard

  Deep in the mountains, a cock crowed, distant and clear. The light of dawn broke through the hazy sky. Peng Aqiang and his wife got up.

  In the reed-walled kitchen, water from a spring ran out of a bamboo pipe, forming a small pool in the corner. They really ought to have a water pot, but they had to save where they could. Anyway, the small pool was perfectly serviceable. Peng Aqiang scooped up a gourdful of water. He then rubbed his hands vigorously for a while to get his blood flowing; then he rubbed his eyes, forehead, cheeks, and nose. Only after he felt somewhat warm did he splash the water on his face. After drying off with his sleeves, he lit a stick of incense and placed it before the ancestral tablets.

  This had been his unvarying routine every morning. He wasn’t likely to ask anyone else to light the incense unless he were going to be away from home or he were ill. When necessary, only Renjie, his oldest son, was allowed to take his place.

  As soon as the senior member of the family started moving around, everyone else got up. Despite being very cold deep in the mountains, mornings were quite invigorating once the wind died down. When the family arrived the night before, their surroundings had been shrouded in darkness, but now, looking out from the doorway of the thatched hut, they found themselves in the midst of myriad mountains and lush, untamed forests.

  The thatched hut faced west. Behind it, a deep green primeval forest rose steeply along a rocky cliff that half concealed the sky from view. Directly in front of the house, terraced fields were in the process of being constructed, and the area to the left of the house was already under cultivation. Beyond the terraced fields and cultivated plots, the upper reaches of Great Lake River flowed into a narrow gorge at the base of the cliff, then past the terraced fields directly in front of the house and on to Blind Man’s Pool.

  The land allocated to the Pengs for farming was in two sections. One part was located on the wooded slope behind the house; the other was between the house and the rest of the settlement. It was said that they could get a jia and a half of terraced fields. If their luck held, in three years’ time, they would no longer have to eat potatoes at every meal. Their first step in opening up the land was to slash and burn the vegetation to make potash. The second step was to plant potatoes and beans.

  Peng Aqiang had long been trying to persuade Aling to give up his dangerous occupation as a soldier, bring his family, and set them up as farmers. After a breakfast of sweet-potato soup—the first meal had to be sweet for luck—Aling and Ahan prepared to leave.

  “Think about it again, Aling. Farming is a proper way of life,” said Peng Aqiang.

  “I’ll consider it,” said Aling, who seemed to have more problems on his mind than anyone else.

  “The Huangs all look to you.” Then he looked at Ahan, who was cleaning his rifle. “Ahan, that goes for you too. You ought to get out of this business. You’re not yet twenty, are you?”

  “I just turned twenty.”

  “Farming is the only proper occupation for a man. All other jobs are just a sham. That’s doubly true for being a soldier: you’re always in danger.”

  “I’ve no family. I’m not afraid.”

  “You shouldn’t say things like that. You are your parents’ child; you have to take even greater care of yourself in order to carry on the family line.” The more Peng Aqiang spoke, the more carried away he became. Ahan listened, somewhat at a loss.

  Ahan and Aling left only after the sun had risen above the thatched roof. Standing in the doorway watching them go, Peng Aqiang had to force a smile.

  The two friends, rifles slung over their shoulders, walked, absorbed in their own thoughts. Several times Peng Aqiang had wanted to say something to Aling, but he always forced himself to keep silent. Lanmei too had wished to speak to Aling, but her eyes filled with tears, and she was a woman not easily reduced to tears. The entire family stood by the door and watched them depart. No one said a word, as if a weight pressed down on their hearts.

  Their friends were gone; only the settlers at Fanzai Wood remained. The days, the months, and the years that were to be spent at Fanzai Wood had truly begun.

  Urgent news from South Lake was awaiting Ahan and Aling when they arrived at Great Lake Village. Headquarters had ordered them to proceed south as quickly as possible. However, Huang Qian, Aling’s father, had sent word that there was an emergency at home and that he should stop at Stone Walls before leaving.

  “I’m not going,” said Aling, changing color.

  Aling’s attitude came as a surprise to Ahan. He was normally so calm and level-headed. What made him behave in a manner so out of character?

  True, Aling had indicated that he was afraid to go home. That was understandable. Aling’s elder brother, who had been making potash for someone in South Lake Village, had died from an illness the summer before. He had left behind three children and a wife in poor health. This June, his mother and another brother had perished after being swept away in the floods as they worked in the new fields, which were still mostly sand and gravel. Aling’s second brother, who had been married to Shunmei, the Pengs’ daughter, had left a daughter and a son who had been born forty-nine days after his death. Also living at home were Aling’s aged father and a younger brother. That brother was an invalid whose legs had withered; the only way he could get around was by crawling.

  “What’s the matter, Aling?” Ahan asked, looking closely at his friend.

  “Nothing.” Aling sighed.

  “I’ll go with you to Stone Walls. We can still make it to South Lake before nightfall.”

  “I’m not going home. I’m not going home,” said Aling, filled with anger. His face darkened and he hung his head dejectedly. “You don’t understand, Ahan! You don’t know the unhappiness I feel.”

  Regardless of what Ahan said, Aling was determined not to go home. Nor did he discuss his unhappiness.

  Despite a ten-year difference in their ages and enormously different temperaments, they had strangely become the best of friends in a short time. Aling regarded Ahan as a younger brother; Ahan, for his part, regarded Aling much like an older brother. Ahan had no idea what afflicted Aling. Suddenly he recalled their departure that morning and how the elderly Peng couple had seen them off, and he thought it strange.

  The two men had lunch at a small food stand at Great Lake Village and, after a brief rest, proceeded directly to South Lake. The road south from Great Lake was a narrow yellow dirt track that ran through Bamboo House and Little Joint Gate before winding through a gap in the high cliffs known as Door Bolt Gap, then down a slope to South Lake Village. Arriving at Door Bolt Gap, they found themselves in the brilliant light of the sun sinking in the west.

  We’ve arrived safely, thought Aling.

  The guard post was at the bottom of the slope, to the left of the temple dedicated to the Righteous Lords, the gods of the just. The temple sat near South Lake River, which wound almost completely around the village. South Lake Village was deeper in the mountains than Great Lake Village, and had much less level land. And although the area had been opened for cultivation as well as camphor and potash making later than Great Lake, it was more developed and the people there were far more successful.

  The village also marked the farthest extent of armed protection for the Chinese settlers. The situation at South Lake was complicated. Many native villages with large populations and considerable power were located in the mountains to the east, south, and southeast of South Lake. The closest was Jialihewan, directly across the river from South Lake Village. Other nearby villages included Manabang and Sulu; a little farther on were Demoponai, Xidaobang, Luben, Mabihao, Jinmuyi, and Tiangou.

  At the beginning of the Qing dynasty, the government had attempted to restrict the indigenous tribes to certain areas. These were known as fandi, or “aboriginal lands.” A series of armed guard posts were set up to form a defensive perimeter along these lands. The most important one was established to the west of Taiwan’s central mountain range, running from Taoyuan in the north to Southern Taiwu Mountain in the south. The mountains marked the border between the indigenous inhabitants of the island and the Chinese settlers, but the division was in no way clearly delineated. There was a considerable amount of contact between the two populations. Groups of indigenous people, normally women and children, would visit the Chinese markets for daily necessities. The sacred lands of the indigenous people were likewise open to visits by the Chinese.

  The Miaoli area was inhabited mainly by Ayatal tribespeople. The tribe was subdivided into three groups—the Saikaokikeya, the Ze’aoliya, and the Saidekeya. The area around Miaoli city was Ze’aoliya territory. Of the Ze’aoliyas’ villages, Demoponai was the strongest. At one time the villagers had lived in the area around the upper reaches of the Big Peace River, but they had recently moved to the area known as Sima Line, east of Xidaobang village. Sima Line was some distance from South Lake Village.

  The Demoponai villagers were numerous, and many smaller villages, recognizing their superiority, had joined in an alliance with them. This alliance had become a threat to the security of the area around South Lake and Great Lake.

  Babo Endo had ruled this alliance, but as he was getting on in years, it was decided that Beidu Babo, his third son, would lead. Babo’s first two sons had died in battle, and Beidu was very ambitious—a leader of outstanding mental and physical abilities. He was also the village’s best deer hunter. Twelve tufts of human hair hung on the scabbard of his gebutimi, or long-handled battle sword, glorious reminders of the twelve enemy heads he had taken. The harvest festival had just passed, marking the beginning of a time of leisure before the Sowing Festival. Liu Mingchuan had resigned, making this an ideal time for training the men and sending them out head-hunting.

  The guard post at South Lake Village was directly under the command of the headquarters at Great Lake. Twenty permanent guards and forty patrol guards were stationed at South Lake. The recent security threat meant that another twenty-five patrol guards had been dispatched from Great Lake, bringing the total number of troops at South Lake to eighty-five.

  On the fifth day after their arrival at South Lake, Liu Ahan and another guard by the name of Du Shuihuo had been sent out on patrol. As they arrived at Door Bolt Gap, the alarm bells at the outpost began to sound the alert.

  “Let’s climb up to the lookout post and have a look,” said Du Shuihuo. “We can avoid everything.”

  They managed to get to the heights above Door Bolt Gap, where a small lookout post that could hold four or five people was located. During the day two guards were stationed there; at night, the number was doubled. On duty were Shameless Wang and Drunkard Yu.

  “What’s the situation?” asked Ahan.

  “What situation? They are coming out of the brush.”

  A surprise attack by the indigenous people was referred to as “coming out of the brush.” These attacks were a form of psychological warfare by which the aborigines were able to instill fear and panic in their enemies. They would attack when least expected and retreat quietly without leaving a trace. After all, in an open assault, they would stand little chance against a battery of guns.

  “Hey, you see that row of things on the other side of the river?” asked Drunkard Yu, as always sounding a little tipsy.

  “There are twenty of them over there sharpening their swords! My god, they’re sharpening their swords!”

  Ahan and Du Shuihuo were dumbstruck. Understanding the situation, Shameless Wang and Drunkard Yu smiled as they looked at Ahan. An expression of fear and helplessness seemed to pass over Du Shuihuo’s face, followed by a look of depression and indifference, or so it appeared to Ahan. It was a common expression among the older soldiers.

  “I’ve been a soldier for six years, and I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Shameless Wang.

  “Quick, go tell Three Chops.”

  Three Chops was the commander of the troops at South Lake. He was coming their way. Before they could open their mouths, he was giving them orders. “Get back to the village. From now on, you are not to go more than fifty paces from South Lake Village. Be sure to get enough to eat and plenty of sleep, and no alcohol.”

  “They, they are down by the river sharpening their swords.”

  “I’ve known about it for a long time. It doesn’t matter. Get enough to eat and plenty of sleep. And no alcohol!”

  Three Chops was a short, squat, middle-aged man. He had a square face, a sharp nose, a small chin, and a headful of stiff hair that stood straight up in contrast to his curly beard. Oddly, he had no eyebrows above his round, oxlike eyes. His was a strange and fearsome face. Three Chops was an unusual person. There were many stories circulating about him. For instance, it was said that he had come directly from Changshan, and that he was a deserter from Liu Mingchuan’s army. It was also said that he had been a bandit operating alone up north in Yilan until he joined the army after his wife was killed by the indigenous people. An even wilder tale had it that he was actually a native or, even worse, a half-caste. Three Chops had two unbeatable skills: he knew a bit of the Taiya language and he was good at martial arts.

  Judging from the seriousness of Three Chops’s orders, the situation must indeed be grim. After giving the matter some thought, Ahan decided to have a talk with Aling.

  From the look of things, the tribespeople of Jialihewan Village were not preparing a surprise attack. Perhaps they were drawing the lines of battle and would “cleanse” the village. Nearing the temple of the Righteous Lords, Ahan was certain that Aling would be there.

  Aling was to be pitied. Two elder brothers had died, leaving him widows and five children as well as a crippled brother to support. Aling’s father wanted him to marry his younger sister-in-law, but he couldn’t. He had become a soldier to escape, and now he was in danger of losing his head.

  When Ahan found him, Aling was the first to speak. “Ahan, you ought to be able to sneak away.”

  “Me? I don’t have any place to go.”

  “What about Fanzai Wood?” Aling suggested. “I’m really worried about my sister and her husband, Renjie.”

  “I have no blood ties with the Pengs,” said Ahan, smiling. Aling also smiled absent-mindedly.

  Ahan’s thoughts turned to the Pengs. An image of Fanzai Wood floated vaguely through his mind. Then a thin and lonely figure flashed across it. Who was it? It was Dengmei, the Pengs’ foster daughter. Startled, he broke into a sweat.

  He wondered why out of the blue he had thought about the girl. She had nothing to do with him. She was a foster daughter who had been purchased by the Pengs. A bought girl. She wasn’t an orphan, but she was the most insignificant member of a large family. She was an ill-fated woman. Ill fated? He reminded himself the he was an orphan too.

  He had no clear memory of his father, who had died when he was only three. He clearly remembered the kindly, wrinkled old face of his grandmother. As for his mother—he always referred to her as “the person who bore me”—he had no memories of her, either. That was because he had done his best to banish her face from his memory.

  I have no mother or father; I’m an orphan! he cried in the depths of his heart hundreds of times each day. There is someone just as alone in the world as I am in Fanzai Wood, he thought. He fell into a deep reverie.

  THREE

  •

  Planting Potatoes, Making Potash, Death

  Spring began on the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth lunar month. The early morning cold made the Pengs shiver when they got up. But once the sun had risen, their fingers lost their numbness and clumsiness.

  It had been a month since they arrived at Fanzai Wood. They had eaten all the potatoes they had brought with them. Those lasted as long as they did only because they had combined them with wild greens. After breakfast, Peng Aqiang and Renxiu, carrying poles and sacks over their shoulders, climbed the slope to buy potatoes from Xu Shihui.