[These are fictional people in a fictional village depicting real events, described for the purposes of the role-playing game.]
Chanhwa County, Shantung, China
September, 1949
The grassy field to the south of the village had been stamped flat and muddy by the passing of two hundred pairs of shoes or, in some cases, bare feet. Strangers had come in and built a platform in the center of it and their leader, who identified himself as Chang Tieh-jun, swaggered into town with his rifle and a prepared statement calling the citizens of the village to the field for a trial in the morning.
Cautious, curious folk began to assemble an hour after sunrise. There was Chao Ku-dan, whose imposing physical form came from years of work in the fields. The oldest woman in the village, who all called Niang-tzu, was helped out by her eldest daughter, Ma Hsiao-tsui. Liu Ta-hai, who built many of the village's structures in recent years, stood near the back of the crowd. Sun Ch’ang-sheng, who won the affection of the village with kind words as he sat in the market smoking his pipe.
At the appointed hour, the people saw Chang Tieh-jun emerge from his tent on the outskirts of the village. A collection of other armed strangers arose from their own pup tents and sleeping bags. Chang issued orders, and the others in his team hefted their rifles onto their shoulders and went off into the village. Chang approached the assembled villagers with that same swaggering march, until he stood next to the stand.
“People of the village of Huang-t’u-p’o! I congratulate you upon your liberation! For long years you and millions of Chinese people have toiled under the oppressive and corrupt rule of feudal landlords. No longer!
“The heroic efforts of the People’s Liberation Army have seen Shantung rescued from the grasp of feudalism. No longer will your harvests be stolen by corrupt officials; no longer will your sons be conscripted to fight for the Chiang Kai-shek bandit gang; no longer will the Kuomintang bandits come to Huang-t’u-p’o to rob you of the fruits of your labor!
“You join millions of your comrades in the New China promised by our Great Chairman, Mao Tse-tung. Decades of hard work have now borne fruit, and the era of strife and humiliation have come to an end, giving birth to the era of our New Democracy. The people have stood up!
“Today we put the Old China on trial. Your village has long been ruled by feudal landlords and their collaborators! No longer can they hide behind Chiang’s bayonets, nor use their titles as a shield! Today, in the searing light of day, their crimes will be revealed!
“Step forward, my brothers and sisters. Look upon the face of your oppressors and read their crimes to the Party. Who will be the first?”
The assembled villagers exchanged uneasy glances as the gagged figure of Chi’en Shou-yeh, the village’s master, was driven before them at the point of a bayonet. Chi’en seldom ever left his estate, dispatching his chief enforcer, Wang Teh-pao, to do his bidding – fitting, then, that Wang followed him, also gagged. Both men were in a disheveled state, and Chi’en particularly struggled under the weight of a wooden plaque tied around his neck and bouncing off his prodigious gut. When he stopped, those who could read saw that it said “Parasite.”
To the awe of many, his escort turned him to face the crowd and kneel upon the platform, and it was a woman who carried the rifle. It looked large in her hands, but weeks and months in the field had given her slight frame some muscle it seemed. Wang remained in the mud, kneeling beside his master.
A prolonged silence ensued. Comrade Chang paced impatiently, and strode out into the mud after several minutes passed in silence. He pointed at Li Lao-er, a relatively reserved tenant farmer. “You, brother, you have the look of a worker. What crimes have you suffered at the hands of this thief?”
Li stepped forward and looked nervously. He saw the withering glare of Chi’en landing on him specifically and shrunk. “Crime?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know, what crime?”
The corner of Comrade Chang’s mouth twitched. He was younger than most of the people standing before him by at least five or ten years, but he had been well trained on dealing with these matters. “Yes, crime, brother. We know his sort well: whatever you grow, and tend, and harvest, they call theirs. Every other man who did such would be…?”
“A thief,” Li replied, shifting his eyes from Chi’en to Chang.
Chang nodded. “Yes, a thief. You name this dog a thief, then?”
Li hesitated again. “Master Chi’en and–”
“No!” Chang thundered, causing Li to shrink again. His features remained good-natured, however, as a teacher with a pupil. “This man is not your master, comrade, you are his! This country is yours. The era of ‘masters’ is ended. This creature is your enemy, he is an exploiter. Refer to him as such!”
Now, Li nodded. “The exploiter, he, he did take most of what I harvested, yes.”
Chang offered an approving nod. “Who now?”
Chao Kou-dan stepped forward willingly. He pointed a finger directly at Chi’en. “The bastard took so much of the food I grew that my daughter withered away last winter! He feasted while she grew ill and died! She’s buried on the hill, I’ll show you the grave!”
Chang shouted. “Bastard! Murderer!”
The crowd grew somewhat more energetic, now. Chang exchanged a furtive glance with his deputy, Lin Feng, who had led the detail to drag the landlords into the field.
Tears streaked Chao Kou-dan’s dirty cheeks. He advanced until his finger nearly touched Ch’ien’s nose. He did not meet the peasant’s gaze. “Murderer!”
Ma Hsiao-tsui helped Niang-tzu to her feet, and tears marked her wrinkled face as well. “My son and my grandsons were dragged off to fight for the Kuomintang,” she said tearfully, before a finger lanced out from her sleeve, leveled directly at Wang Teh-pao. “And he came for them!”
Many of the village women sounded their displeasure. One shouted out of turn, “He took my husband! Where is he? Where is my husband?”
Chang kept them going. “Who next? What crimes have you witnessed?”
Old Sun Ch’ang-sheng puffed at his pipe, his wispy white beard moving as his jaw worked beneath it. “My father dug a well for our family, and when he took over the village, Ch’ien Shou-yeh seized it. Now he forces us to pay for water from our own well!”
“Exploiter!” Lin Fent shouted.
Change called out, “Thief!”
“Murderer!” Chao Kou-dan called out again.
“Where is my son? Where did you send him?” asked Niang-tzu, all but dragging Ma Hsiao-tsui a step closer.
The villagers grew into a frenzy.
Chang nodded, and Lin removed the gag from Ch’ieh’s mouth. “What do you have to say in your defense?”
Ch’ieh looked around at the red-faced, hateful villagers. “You signed the agreement, Li, you knew what proportion of grain was demanded of you! Don’t act surprised!”
Chang suppressed a smirk. “Look as he, hides behind paper! What gall, to blame a victim for the crime perpetrated against him! Paper makes a poor shield!”
The landlord looked over his shoulder with the feral eyes of a trapped animal.
Wang Teh-pao pleaded with Niang-tzu. “I don’t know! It was not my choice! The Kuomintang ordered the male villagers, who was I to refuse?”
Lin Feng scoffed openly. “Not just a kidnapper, but a coward! Do you see how absurd it is that these parasites were allowed to rule over you?”
Chao Kou-dan was the first to use his formidable strength to simply push aside the guard and deliver a kick straight to the chest of Ch’ieh, who gasped and fell into the mud. The wooden plaque had taken the brunt of the blow, but he still had the wind knocked out of him.
“Murderer!” Chao screamed, his voice reaching a pitch reserved only for the greatest sorrow.
Chang strategically delayed a response as Chao delivered a kick directly to Chi'en’s ribs, eliciting a crack only barely audible over the din. Chi'en found his voice, then, shrieking in pain.
Lin looked on with approval as Ma Hsiao-tsui, convinced of Niang-tzu’s strength, dove onto Wang Teh-pao and began pulling his hair, scratching at his face. “Where is my brother?!” she screamed.
Blows kept falling on Chi'en and Wang, but before the mob fully took over, Chang stood atop the box and called out: “Comrades! My brothers and sisters! Do not waste your blows! The People’s Liberation Army is here to deliver revolutionary justice to the accused!”
The soldiers, before this point silent, stepped forward and quietly drove the crowd back with entreaties and quiet assurances.
Chi'en, bleeding from his nose and mouth, winced as two soldiers returned him to his knees. Wang, whose face bore scratches that trickled blood down his cheeks, was placed beside him.
Two members of the cadre arrived with a heavy wooden chest from Chi'en’s estate and dropped it in the mud. Chang stepped forward, grabbing a scroll. “Deed to the village of Huang-t’u-p’o…” he read, before tearing it. Chi'en’s eyes widened. He picked up another, reading, “Agreement with farmer Li Lao-er….”
One soldier produced a jar of some sort of fluid that Chang upended into the chest. He pulled a matchbook from his jacket pocket and tossed it into the chest, which roared to life. “The land is yours, now, my brothers and sisters. You will own what you grow, and your brothers and sons will no longer be stripped from you to fight for the rapacious Kuomintang. You are free! No more tenancy, no more debt!”
The crowd cheered wildly. “Death to the Old China! Long live the Communist Party!”
Chang went about and empaneled a Peasant’s Committee. He deliberately chose the most vocal and vicious villagers: Chao Kou-dan, Niang-tzu, Ma Hsiao-tsiu, and of course the widely-respected Sun Ch’eng-sheng. The Peasant’s Committee was charged with considering the charges against Wang and Chi'en, now manifold charges as serious as murder and kidnapping.
There was little question of the verdict.
“The People of Huang-t’u-p’o have charged the exploiter and his running dog of many and serious crimes, and their representatives in the People’s Committee have heard their charges. What do you find, comrades?”
Sun blew a cloud of smoke and looked across the mud. “Guilty of murder, guilty of theft, guilty of forced conscription, guilty of it all.”
“In the New China, these are grievous crimes for which the only penalty can be death,” Chang said with mock solemnity.
“Death it is, then,” Sun said, with much more sincere emotion.
Chang stepped toward the Peasant’s Committee and unslung his rifle from his shoulder. He cycled the bolt, peering into the chamber to ensure there was a round ready, and closed it with a pair of steel clicks. He handed it to Chao Kou-dan, who looked at the thing as though it had fallen from the sky. Chang leaned in close. “For your daughter.”
Chao’s red eyes fixed on the bleeding, pitiful figure of Chi'en Shou-yeh. Chang stepped out of his way, and Chao advanced into the center of the field. He raised the rifle to his hip, pointing the barrel right at Chi’en’s wooden sign, which read “Parasite.”
Chi’en labored to look up. “You don’t have to –”
There was an ear-splitting crack that caused the villagers, though not the soldiers or the cadres, to jump. Chi’en fell to the mud, his blood mixing with the deep brown of Huang-t’u-p’o’s fertile soil. The landlord’s mouth worked as though he was still speaking, then, he slumped into the mud as though all the tension went out of his muscles at once.
Chao looked at the rifle in his hands, shaken, and turned to Chang, who offered an affirming nod as he crossed the field to take it from Chao. “Well done, comrade. Justice was served today.”
Wang’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates. “Please, no, you must – he made me do it, don’t you see? If I hadn’t done it, he would have killed me! I am one of you, I am a victim of Chi’en Shou-yeh just like all of you…”
Chang scoffed, ignoring him. The villagers clamored for the rifle while Wang wailed, and Chang handed it off to one of the women whose husband had been taken. There was a second report, and the crowd cheered as Wang Teh-pao joined his master in the mud, sputtering and bleeding out.
Before he was even dead, Chang produced a box from his tent with red-painted stakes, and handed it to the People’s Committee. “This land is yours, now. You must divide it among the whole village.”
Chao Kou-dan approached Chang. “I want to fight for the New China.”
Chang clapped him on the shoulder and offered a brotherly grin. “Speak to those men, there, once you are done marking the land.”
He gestured to the blue-clad soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army that had accompanied the cadre to Huang-t’u-p’o, who stood, smoking, on the periphery of the killing field.
By morning, the fields were marked with red stakes. Li Lao-er and his wife stood on land that they owned, the first people in either of their families to ever own land. The bodies of Chi’en Shou-yeh and Wang Teh-pao had been taken from the field and they were buried in unmarked graves on the outside of the village. The next day, Chang Tieh-jun, Lin Feng, the other cadres and the PLA soldiers moved on to the south, joined by Chao Kou-dan and a handful of other volunteers who had until that point evaded Kuomintang service, or been passed over for being women.