0p0 Chapter 623 The Exiles of 8ga Island 4
Chapter 623 The Exiles of 8ga Island 4
Outside the music workshop, several Qin soldiers were patrolling. The leader was a young man in his early twenties named Wang Fang, who came from an ordinary military household. He stood outside the window, listening to the music playing inside the workshop, lost in thought.
"Squad Leader Wang, Gao Jianli is teaching quite diligently," a soldier whispered.
Wang Fang nodded: "Although he is blind, he is well-versed in music theory. The general said that music can educate people's hearts. If these Japanese learn Qin music, they will naturally understand Qin etiquette and return to the Qin mindset in time."
"But he's an assassin, he tried to assassinate the king."
“That’s all in the past.” Wang Fang looked at the figure inside the window, eyes closed, playing the zither. “Now he’s just a musician. The general said that on Baga Island, regardless of background, only the present matters.”
Inside the workshop, Gao Jianli let his students practice on their own while he sat quietly, his hands unconsciously stroking the strings of his instrument. Sunlight shone on his face, revealing a perpetual darkness beneath his eyelids. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to "seeing" the world through his ears: the sound of wind, rain, waves, footsteps, breathing… each sound constructing a corresponding image in his mind.
He heard the rhythmic, heavy clanging of the distant mines; the innocent yet earnest voices of children reciting their lessons in the school; and the rough, rhythmic chants of the boatmen from the harbor. These sounds intertwined, forming the daily life of Baga Island.
But today, he also heard other sounds—deliberately hushed conversations in the woods behind the music workshop. Though far away, Gao Jianli's ears, unlike those of ordinary people, still caught a few words: "...opportunity...contact...uprising..."
He remained calm and continued playing the zither. The melodious music masked the whispers of a secret plot in the distance.
As evening fell, the apprentices dispersed. Gao Jianli remained alone in the music workshop, fumbling to pack up his instruments. The workshop door was pushed open, and a person walked in.
Gao Jianli stopped what he was doing. He didn't need his eyes to know who it was—the unique footsteps, the familiar breathing rhythm, and the ever-present smell of mineral dust on their bodies.
Jing Ke, or rather, Jing Jiu.
Five years have passed. They went from being sworn brothers in the Xianyang prison to strangers on this isolated island overseas. When they were first exiled here, they supported each other. Jing Ke was strong and often helped Gao Jianli complete his mining quota; Gao Jianli, though blind, would play the zither and sing for Jing Ke at night to relieve his distress.
But the pressures of survival eventually eroded their friendship. Jing Ke, due to his outstanding performance, was promoted to foreman, and his work became increasingly demanding; Gao Jianli, blind, struggled to move about in the mine and was frequently punished. Once, Gao Jianli asked Jing Ke for help, but Jing Ke refused, as he himself was exhausted. From that moment on, a rift formed.
Later, Gao Jianli was transferred to the music workshop because of his mastery of music, which deepened the rift between the two. In Gao Jianli's eyes, Jing Ke was working for the Qin people; in Jing Ke's eyes, Gao Jianli did not understand his forbearance and planning.
"What is it?" Gao Jianli broke the silence, his voice calm.
Jing Ke stood at the doorway, the setting sun casting his long shadow into the room. He stared at his former best friend, whose once vibrant face was now nothing but silent darkness.
“Yan Mu is contacting people,” Jing Ke said directly. “He plans to take advantage of the chaos when Wang Ben’s fleet arrives to join forces with the Japanese to start an uprising.”
Gao Jianli lightly touched the strings: "So?"
“You must have heard something,” Jing Ke said. “Japanese apprentices often come and go from the music workshop. If they have any plans, they won’t hide them from you.”
Gao Jianli was silent for a moment: "I heard some things. But I'm not sure."
"tell me."
"Why?" Gao Jianli raised his head, his empty eyes "looking" in Jing Ke's direction. "If I tell you, will you go and claim credit with the Qin people? Supervisor Jing is now deeply trusted by Li Xin, and he probably doesn't want anything to happen on the island and ruin your future."
Jing Ke clenched his fist, veins bulging on the back of his hand: "Jian Li, you..."
“My name is Gao Jianli,” the blind musician interrupted him. “Supervisor Jing Jiu, if there’s nothing else, please leave. I need to tidy up the instruments.”
Jing Ke stood there, watching Gao Jianli slowly but precisely place the Qin zither into the wooden box. Five years had passed; this former master zither player had become completely accustomed to the darkness. But what about his heart? Had it also fallen completely into darkness, unable to let in even a ray of light?
In the end, Jing Ke said nothing and turned to leave.
Hearing the door close, Gao Jianli stopped what he was doing. He sat quietly for a long time, then gently plucked a string on his zither. The low, somber notes echoed in the empty room, lonely and desolate.
In mid-May, a message began to circulate on the island: the Qin fleet was sailing east and was expected to arrive at Baga Island in early June.
"It's General Wang Ben's fleet!"
"Wang Ben? Is that Wang Ben, the son of General Wang Jian?"
"That's right! He's here to replace General Li Xin. I heard that the King of Qin is going to declare himself emperor in Xianyang and hold a coronation ceremony, and he's invited General Li back to attend!"
"To declare himself emperor?" The exiles exchanged bewildered glances. What did it mean for the king to change his title to emperor? It meant that Qin was no longer content with being the leader of the feudal lords, but wanted to become the supreme ruler of the world, like the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors of ancient times.
Yan Mu was moving ore at the mine when he heard the news. He put down his bamboo basket, wiped his sweat, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
The opportunity is here.
With Li Xin returning to Xianyang and Wang Ben newly arrived, the handover will inevitably be chaotic. Moreover, Wang Ben's fleet is returning from its long voyage, and there must be valuable supplies on board. If we can seize a few ships, we might truly be able to escape this isolated overseas island and return to the Central Plains!
That night, Yan Mu secretly gathered seven like-minded exiles. They met in an abandoned mine shaft, the entrance of which was covered with stones, leaving only a crack for ventilation.
“The information is confirmed,” Yan Mu said in a low voice. “Li Xin will leave the island in early June, and Wang Ben will take over. The handover period will last about ten days, during which the island’s defenses will inevitably be relaxed.”
“But we only have eight men,” a young nobleman said worriedly, “how can we fight against thousands of Qin soldiers?”
“It’s not just us.” Yan Mu’s eyes gleamed. “I’ve secretly contacted the Japanese. Several tribal leaders among the native Japanese are extremely dissatisfied with the Qin people’s sterilization policy. Many among the slave Japanese are also longing for freedom day and night. As long as the time is right, they are willing to rise up with us.”
"The Japanese?" another person frowned. "Can those barbarians be trusted?"
“Unreliable, but usable.” Yan Mu analyzed calmly, “They are familiar with the island’s terrain and have a large number of people. We don’t need them to defeat the Qin army. As long as we create chaos and tie down the main force of the Qin army, we will have a chance to seize the ships.”
"After seizing the ship, where do you escape to?"
"East!" Yan Mu unfolded a simple map—which he had secretly drawn over the past few months. "Further east of the Japanese islands, there is supposedly an even larger landmass. Let's go there to hide first, and then plan our next move."
Silence fell over the cave. The flickering flame of the oil lamp cast swaying shadows on everyone's faces. In the distance came the dull, rhythmic clanging of the night shift miners, like some kind of countdown.
“Brother Yan,” finally, an older member of the royal family spoke up, “if this matter fails, we will all die.”
“If we do nothing, we will die!” Yan Mu became agitated. “Are you really willing to be slaves of the Qin people on this isolated island overseas, mining until you die? Our fathers and brothers sacrificed their lives for the country, and our ancestral temples were burned down by the Qin people. Have you forgotten this deep-seated hatred?”