BXBX NOVEL Chapter 81
He had just drifted off to sleep when the sudden sound of battle jolted him awake. Startled, Qianlong jumped to his feet. An enemy attack! He quickly dressed and rushed outside.
“Your Majesty, the Zhou army is attacking us in the night!” Fu Cha Fu Heng reported, his face dark with concern.
Qianlong’s anger flared.
“Cowards and tricksters! Where are the Iron Pagoda’s troops? Mobilize the soldiers and surround them!”
He could barely contain his fury at the brazen night raid. Fu Cha Fu Heng responded with a solemn nod.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Half an hour later…
“Your Majesty, the Zhou army has retreated.”
Fu Cha Fu Heng returned, out of breath. Qianlong stared at him, bewildered.
“They ran away again? Are these Zhou troops only here to harass us?” He took a steadying breath, his chest tight with frustration. “Return to camp!”
In the days that followed, the Zhou army continued to harass the Qing forces, retreating each time Qianlong attempted to engage in full battle. After several such encounters, Qianlong’s irritation mounted.
…
Inside the Qing camp…
Bang!
“Idiots, all of them!” Qianlong shouted, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
“What are they trying to accomplish? Are they just here to torment me?”
The officials in the tent exchanged looks of confusion. It didn’t make sense to them either—this constant harassment wasn’t damaging the Qing forces, only wasting time.
Fu Cha Fu Heng frowned in thought. This didn’t seem like Zhou’s usual style. Just then…
Hurried footsteps approached.
“Your Majesty, urgent news!”
A general stumbled into the tent, sweat pouring down his forehead. Everyone turned to him, puzzled by his expression of horror.
Qianlong, still agitated, glared. “Why are you panicking? Did the Zhou army attack again?”
The general swallowed hard. “Your Majesty, it’s not the Zhou army… Someone in our camp has contracted smallpox!”
The tent fell silent. Qianlong’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Smallpox?”
There was a hint of dread in his voice. Smallpox was no trivial illness. His great-grandfather had barely survived it and bore the scars for life.
A murmur of fear rippled through the tent. Smallpox did not discriminate between noble and commoner; it was often deadly, and the thought of it sent a chill through the soldiers.
After a tense pause, Fu Cha Fu Heng regained his composure. “Your Majesty, we should assess the situation.”
Qianlong, finally steadying himself, clenched his jaw. “Let’s go…”
The memory of his great-grandfather’s pockmarked face cast a dark shadow over him. If he contracted smallpox, it could mean the end.
One incense stick’s time later…
Qianlong, accompanied by his generals, arrived at a tent hastily marked off for isolation. Standing outside, he heard the painful groans within. His legs felt weak.
A military doctor approached him with a grave expression. “Your Majesty…”
Qianlong seized on a faint hope.
“Are you sure it’s smallpox? Could it be another disease with similar symptoms?”
The doctor shook his head grimly. “Your Majesty, I have practiced medicine my entire life. The symptoms—fever, headaches, back pain, extreme fatigue, and now blisters and pustules—are unmistakable. This is definitely smallpox.”
The tent fell silent once more. Qianlong’s face tensed, his hand gripping his robes.
“Isolate the infected immediately. No one is to approach them.”
The soldiers responded in unison, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The next morning, just before dawn, Qianlong was roused from restless sleep by urgent voices. He gritted his teeth as footsteps grew nearer.
“Your Majesty…” Fu Cha Fu Heng burst into the tent, visibly anxious. Qianlong held back his irritation.
“What now?”
Fu Cha Fu Heng, drenched in sweat, answered, “Nearly two hundred more people have contracted smallpox…”
Qianlong’s eyes widened. “Two hundred more cases?”
He gritted his teeth. “Isolate them at once!”
Fu Cha Fu Heng shook his head, frustration clear on his face.
“We’ve been isolating them as quickly as possible, but… what are we to do with so many infected?”
Qianlong’s agitation deepened.
“Besides leaving them to fate, what else can we do? Investigate immediately—how could the infection spread so widely in our camp?”
In the close quarters of the army, an outbreak was difficult to control. If too many soldiers were infected, disaster would follow. Qianlong’s face grew increasingly grim as he pounded the table in frustration.
Half a day later, the Zhou army attacked once again. Qianlong fumed, livid at their relentless nuisance. Yet when he sent his forces to engage, the Zhou troops retreated just as quickly.
Over the following half-month, conditions in the Qing camp worsened.
“Your Majesty, the number of smallpox cases keeps rising. We now have over 36,000 infected soldiers, and that number is likely to double soon.”
Fu Cha Fu Heng was visibly pale, and the generals around him looked stricken. The spread was overwhelming. Morale plummeted; even Qianlong was terrified. He couldn’t afford to risk his own life here.
Qianlong pressed his temples, struggling to remain calm.
“We’ve isolated each case immediately… yet the infections persist. Why?”
Fu Cha Fu Heng’s expression shifted as he pondered.
“Your Majesty, since we set out, we haven’t come into contact with outsiders, except during battles with the Zhou forces. Wait a moment…” His eyes widened. “Could the Zhou troops have infected us?”
Silence.
The officials exchanged horrified glances.
Yes, they had been fine at first. But ever since those strange encounters with the Zhou army, smallpox had appeared in their ranks.
Qianlong’s face twisted in realization, his chest heaving with anger.
“Could it be that the Zhou only engaged us to spread the disease?”
A horrified gasp rippled through the tent. This strategy was as ruthless as it was insidious.
The more Qianlong thought about it, the more sense it made. Who else could have brought smallpox into their camp in this remote wilderness?
“It must be. This has Yang Yi’s mark all over it. No one else would be so despicable!”
Fu Cha Fu Heng’s face was grim.
“But Your Majesty, if Zhou did bring the disease, wouldn’t they risk infecting themselves as well?”
Qianlong clenched his fists, lost for words. Just then, a guard entered the tent hurriedly.
“Your Majesty, the Zhou army has sent word. They claim to have a cure for smallpox—and are willing to share it if… if Your Majesty surrenders with the troops.”
Everyone inhaled sharply. It was Zhou, without a doubt.
A chill swept through the tent, seeping into the soldiers’ bones like venom from a snake. This strategy was as vicious as it was cold-blooded.
Qianlong’s hands trembled with rage, veins bulging at his temples.
“It’s Yang Yi’s scheme! Those despicable bastards!”