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Zu Mao scowled and shouted, “We
didn’t do it for the bloody-!”
“Hush,” Sun Jian ordered.
Liu Pi, Huang Shao and the other surrendered Yellow Turbans were visibly
disturbed by the sight of their dead comrades, but none of them contributed any
opinions. Instead, Liu Pi threw his turban to the ground, fell to one knee and
said, “We’re ready to face your emperor’s justice.”
Most of the other rebels threw or dropped their own turbans to the
ground and fell to one knee in reluctant penitence.
“…Alright,” Sun Jian sighed. “We’ll escort you to the main camp. It
isn’t up to us to decide what to do with you, it’s-”
“You decided what to do to them!” Hè Man said as he gestured at
the corpses of his allies.
“…They decided that for us, and you know it,” Sun Jian replied uneasily.
“Commander Zhu Jun and Commander Huangfu Song will decide your fate: I’m just a
soldier following orders. Rise and follow us, please.”
Liu Pi got to his feet, and his allies quickly followed. The journey
back to the main camp was silent and sombre as every man and woman present
pondered the lasting outcome of the events in Yu Province: others remained
behind to give some form of respectful burial to those that had fallen in
battle. The discarded yellow scarves were gathered in a sack that one quiet
soldier carried: many thought that they would be ceremonially disposed of as a
sign to others, but none could be sure.
“You did another amazing job, Wentai,” Zhu Jun said as he shared wine
with Sun Jian in his personal tent a day later. “Liu Pi and Huang Shao have
agreed to cease hostilities and urge others to do the same… for those two to
have capitulated is a victory indeed! Already, dozens have handed themselves
over for peaceful judgement and burned their turbans! Yu Province is a positive
message to the rest of the country.”
“…I did little to be praised for, Commander,” Sun Jian replied.
“I
fought when I was told to, retreated when I was told to… the other militias
have as great a role to play in things, and they’ve all achieved great things.”
“Your tone leaves little to the imagination,” Zhu Jun said. “You’re
angry at the amount of ‘civilian’ casualties. Your men are upset at having to
kill ‘ordinary people’.”
Sun Jian nodded silently.
“What’s an ‘ordinary person’…?” Zhu Jun asked. “A man is a man: is he
suddenly transformed from an ‘ordinary person’ into a farmer because he picks
up a rake, or a soldier because he picks up a sword…? We’re all men or women.
The men and women that chose to fight alongside the Yellow Turbans did so for reasons
and excuses that I neither know nor care for. They rose up against their own people. Didn’t you have to
save a village or two full of ‘ordinary people’ from the Yellow Turbans on the
way here…?”
“That’s precisely why I didn’t turn around and go home,” Sun Jian
admitted. “I did think about it when I heard about the eunuchs in Luoyang,
about the corruption in the local administrations, about the poor, about the
famine, when I thought about my own region… every thought led to me thinking
‘Go home’ until I saw that they were harming people in the name of saving
them.”
“And when I return to court, Wentai, I swear to you that no matter what
it costs me, I’m going to confront those evil eunuchs and their corrupt,
destructive allies face-to-face,” Zhu Jun replied. “I will petition until my
hands seize up from writing, shout until my voice cracks, and cry for the
injustices they’ve caused until my eyes bleed… so will Huangfu Song, Lu Zhi,
Yuan Shao, Cao Cao and the multitude of other great men that still have places
at court.”