Chapter Forty-Seven: A Mother's Worries as Her Child Journeys Afar

Liu Dayou spent a night at home. Early the next morning, before dawn, he was already awake, carefully gathering the clothes he had packed the night before. As he stepped into the main hall, he was startled to see two pairs of cloth shoes placed on the large table.

Two pairs of brand new cloth shoes!

Liu Dayou stood frozen in surprise. Last night, his mother had learned he was enlisting in the army and wept all night. Yet, who could have expected she would sit up through the night and make him two pairs of cloth shoes, fearing he might be without proper footwear once he joined the troops?

Looking at those shoes, Liu Dayou’s eyes grew misty once again; hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

Such was his mother. Though her heart ached beyond measure, she still cared for her son, staying up to fashion two pairs of shoes for him. He could only imagine how many times she pricked her fingers under the dim glow of the oil lamp, working through the night to finish them.

Liu Dayou dared not dwell on it, fearing that, if he did, his resolve to leave would falter.

With a loud thud, Liu Dayou dropped to his knees and bowed deeply toward his parents’ room several times.

“Father, Mother, watch me! I, Liu Dayou, will make something of myself. When I return in glory, I’ll bring you both to enjoy a life of comfort. That day won’t be far off, I promise!”

Thinking thus, he clenched his fists, gazed once more at the room where his parents slept, wiped away his tears, and slipped out quietly.

He did not wish to wake them, nor did he want them to see him off.

He knew that if his parents realized he was leaving, they would be reluctant to let him go, and his mother would surely shed tears again.

Liu Dayou did not want to cause his mother further sorrow, nor did he wish to see his honest father cry.

With these thoughts, Liu Dayou resolutely shouldered his bundle and headed toward the county town.

What he did not know was that, not long after he left, Old Liu and his wife emerged from their room. His mother’s eyes were red and swollen; her hands, rough with calluses, were wrapped in white cloth stained with bright red blood—so glaring, so painful to see.

Yet his mother seemed oblivious, wanting to chase after her son, but Old Liu held her back. “Don’t go after him. Our son has grown up and wants to make his own way in the world. He can’t stay at home forever.”

At these words, his mother broke down in tears once more. She walked to the gate of the yard, leaning against the doorframe, and watched Liu Dayou’s departing figure from afar, staring for a long time…

She kept watching until his silhouette disappeared, until he vanished into the morning mist. Even so, she stood there, her gaze fixed ahead.

That look seemed to penetrate every barrier, to span endless distance, as if she could see her son walking along the road ahead.

Such is a mother’s worry for a child journeying a thousand miles.

…

Thanks to the reward in silver dollars, the recruitment for the Independent Mixed Brigade was swiftly completed. In less than a week, over seven thousand men had enlisted in Qingyuan County alone, surpassing the target quota.

It was, in truth, an overachievement.

These new recruits included not only residents of Qingyuan, but also young men from surrounding counties and even places like Xuzhou.

All were drawn by the high wages and settlement grants offered by the Independent Mixed Brigade, eager to sign up.

Indeed, the brigade’s pay was extraordinarily generous. In most Republican army units, the monthly salary for a private was three silver dollars, sometimes even less during wartime, and there were units where soldiers went months without pay.

The Independent Mixed Brigade, however, offered four silver dollars per month, plus a settlement grant of twenty silver dollars, paid immediately upon enlistment. Such high wages were irresistible.

Though joining the army meant risking death, many young men still enlisted.

In these turbulent times, countless families struggled to eat or keep warm; several generations lived together, and after paying grain taxes, there was little left to sustain them.

Under such circumstances, joining the army—where food and lodging were provided, along with a salary—naturally attracted many.

Yes, to fill their bellies and clothe their bodies, they risked death.

After all, not enlisting could mean starving to death anyway; better to die with a full stomach in the army than waste away at home.

This was the simple wish of the people in these times.

Though most recruits joined for the money, Chen Qingzhi was still pleased. He saw no reason to object.

After all, it was an era where the majority were hungry, cold, and illiterate; talk of national duty or the survival of the state meant little to them. Only the gleam of silver dollars and piles of grain were truly real and reliable.

Recruitment was completed smoothly, but the settlement grants spent to achieve it were a staggering amount; the two hundred thousand silver dollars awarded by the Chairman were almost entirely used up.

Once the brigade was filled, the authorities promptly sent uniforms, gear, weapons, and supplies—enough to equip seven to eight thousand men.

It was exactly the full complement for an independent brigade.

Here, the authorities were not stingy.

Chen Qingzhi knew that some units, though officially at full strength, often had their supplies withheld by higher-ups—sometimes even half of their allocations.

Those units, even if they wanted to appeal, found nowhere to turn; their complaints only attracted more animosity from superiors, and resulted in even more supplies being withheld. In the end, they could only suffer in silence.

On this matter, Chen Qingzhi counted himself fortunate; his Independent Mixed Brigade had not been shortchanged.

In truth, his worries had been unnecessary. Chen Qingzhi was now a hero of the Republic, having accomplished an unprecedented feat and earned the Chairman’s praise and favor; who dared meddle with his brigade’s supplies?

Only someone courting disaster would try.

Notably, among the delivered equipment were eight 62mm mortars and four 82mm mountain guns—something that surprised Chen Qingzhi.

Artillery was precious in those times; most units were severely lacking, and even a division might possess only a handful of guns. Yet the Chairman had managed to allocate twelve pieces of artillery to Chen Qingzhi’s brigade.

This demonstrated how highly the Chairman valued Chen Qingzhi.

Despite the delivery, Chen Qingzhi did not accept all the equipment; he kept only the German-style gear and artillery, enough for a thousand men, and returned the rest—along with previously captured Japanese weapons—requesting they be converted into silver dollars.

It was laughable; with the Iron-Blood Resistance System and more than half a million points from this campaign, Chen Qingzhi planned to outfit his troops entirely with German equipment. He had no use for the old Type 38 rifles.

The Quartermaster Department, though puzzled by his request, did not object.

After all, Chen Qingzhi was under the command of General Chen Cheng and favored by the Chairman; they had to give him face.

Moreover, weapons and equipment were far more valuable than silver dollars; sometimes, money could not buy arms and ammunition.

Other units preferred gear over cash; if Chen Qingzhi wanted silver dollars, the Quartermaster could simply allocate the equipment elsewhere.

For these reasons, the department was happy to convert the supplies, even adding a few extra thousand silver dollars to the settlement.

Thus, after accounting for the Chairman’s reward and the funds from converting equipment, and after paying out settlement grants, Chen Qingzhi still had more than three hundred thousand silver dollars left.