“So even if it’s just for the future livelihood of the Canal Guild, this grain must be sold to the people of Jiangnan. Only by doing so can we ensure endless prosperity. To use an analogy, when sailing on water, without that initial ‘push,’ how can there be a journey of ten thousand li thereafter?”

“Fourth Brother Xu, by rights, as the host, I shouldn’t boast about my own household. However, this wine is truly exceptional – in a word, ‘money can’t buy it.’ You might as well have a couple more cups.”

“Oh. What kind of wine is it?” The listener glanced at the wine in his cup, his expression rather skeptical.

Li Wantang knew that this Clerk Xu before him might appear plainly dressed and rather square-headed and square-brained, but his family had served as clerks in the Ministry of Revenue since the former Ming Dynasty – truly one who had eaten much and seen much, with ordinary things hardly catching his eye. Such a person also had one advantage: he could recognize genuine goods upon hearing about them, without need for much persuasion.

“It’s Sangluo wine. The recipe for brewing this wine has long been lost. Fortunately, a wealthy household in Jiangnan still had two jars stored away, so I bought them specifically to invite connoisseurs to taste, lest this fine wine go to waste.”

With just these few understated words, Clerk Xu showed great interest. The capital merchant Li Wantang possessed vast wealth – wine that he had specifically purchased would naturally be excellent, and certainly obtained at great expense.

Though Clerk Xu was merely a minor functionary specializing in documents at the Ministry of Revenue, he still had some learning in his belly. He drained the wine in his cup in one gulp, fondling the fine white porcelain wine cup from Qianlong kilns, and praised: “Indeed excellent. I recall two lines of poetry: ‘Who knows of Sangluo wine, who shall pour it this year?'”

“Naturally, there is someone to pour wine for you, sir.” Li Wantang smiled slightly. His words had barely faded when from behind the curtain emerged a beauty dressed in a deep blue brocaded gown, with pure white orchid grass embroidered dotting the hem. She was truly painted-eyebrow beautiful with a radiant smile, gracefully taking several steps to arrive before Clerk Xu, her delicate hand lifting the lukewarm wine pot to fill his cup once more.

“This is?” With such beauty before him, Clerk Xu was dazzled and bewildered, his eyes following the charming woman.

“I’m called Lingling. I presume Master Xu frequently visits the hutongs but doesn’t often stroll around Zhushi Kou?” The beauty smiled with pursed lips.

At this, Clerk Xu looked at her with new respect. The “small troupes” and “tea houses” in the Eight Great Hutongs contained girls who were certainly not common powder and rouge – to become an intimate guest required engaging in tea围 and flower wine, visiting three to five times before there was anything to discuss. This was unlike the “lower establishments” and “brothels” where money alone sufficed.

However, there was another place where even money wouldn’t work – the two “Refined Singing Small Troupes” at Zhushi Kou. The girls sat behind gauze curtains playing instruments and singing, truly selling voice but not body. In terms of talent, they were the finest in the capital. To truly gain their favor required betrothal with pearls and jade – most were kept as golden birds in cages by princes and nobles, while some were hired by wealthy merchants as concubines. Like this Lingling, with such extraordinary beauty, one could tell without asking that she was a star performer from the Refined Singing Small Troupe. Just to listen to songs and give rewards required at least fifty taels of horseshoe silver per person. Moreover, the “Refined Singing Small Troupe” had its own rules, with girls not leaving the premises being one of them. For Li Wantang to break this rule and invite Miss Lingling here required not only silver but also considerable face, showing his sincere treatment of guests.

Clerk Xu had always harbored wariness in his heart. This Li Wantang had specifically invited him from home to “Dou Yi Chu,” booking all the private rooms on the second floor exclusively for himself alone – clearly the matter was not simple and quite possibly troublesome. So he had been calculating how to decline and evade. Now seeing Li Wantang’s such thoughtfulness, while feeling grateful, his wariness decreased slightly, but curiosity inevitably soared, making his heart itch: with “Li Half-City’s” capabilities, could there really be something he couldn’t accomplish that required his own help?

He naturally wanted to know the answer, but asking directly would mean falling into Li Wantang’s trap, so he could only patiently wait. As the understanding beauty beside him continuously held the pot and urged more wine, Clerk Xu occasionally probed indirectly, but Li Wantang revealed not a word of his purpose.

“Tonight we shall only discuss romance and moonlight!” Li Wantang had just returned from the recently pacified south and had plenty of novel experiences to share, bringing them out one by one to tell. Even Lingling couldn’t help but blink and listen intently from time to time. The atmosphere remained lively throughout, though time passed minute by minute.

“Oh my, it’s the first watch already. I remember this ‘Dou Yi Chu’ closes and boards up at the first watch.” Clerk Xu heard the night watchman’s wooden clapper outside the window and was somewhat surprised.

“No matter – I’ve rented the entire establishment for tonight. Never mind the first watch, even at the third watch there will be hot dishes and warm wine. We need only enjoy ourselves to the fullest.” Li Wantang said with slight intoxication, suddenly leaning closer to Clerk Xu, his voice lowering: “Fourth Brother Xu, I hear you’re involved in a lawsuit?”

“Alas, family misfortune.” Mentioning this matter caused Clerk Xu considerable vexation. His youngest son, due to the family’s wealth, had been noticed and recruited by a gang of ruffians from the north city, spending his days with them in cockfighting and dog-teasing, accomplishing nothing proper. This would have been tolerable, but he had recently gone with others to Daxing County to collect debts. The other party was also quite stubborn, resulting in violence. In the confusion, someone – no one knew who – pushed a pregnant woman from the opposing family into a pond. When rescued, she was already dead.

This was a case of two lives for one death. The county dared not be negligent and immediately prepared detailed documents for report. Shuntian Prefecture issued urgent warrants for comprehensive arrest. The ringleader would naturally pay with his life, while Clerk Xu’s youngest son, already notorious in daily life and respected by those ruffians as “Third Master Xu,” had been present that day and could not escape involvement. It looked like at minimum he faced “banishment to military service.” Clerk Xu’s wife had always favored this youngest son most. Hearing he might be exiled far away, she wept herself hoarse, insisting that Clerk Xu save their son – even imprisonment in the capital would be better than going to the frontier beyond the passes. For this, Clerk Xu had also called upon many connections, but the case was too serious, already becoming street gossip, and no one dared give definitive assurance of success.

“No problem. Children, after all – a moment of confusion leading to mistakes, how can we not give them a chance to reform? As the saying goes, ‘a prodigal son’s return is worth more than gold.’ After tonight’s wine, Fourth Brother Xu need only go to Shuntian Prefecture to post bond and collect the person. I guarantee your son will be fine.”

Li Wantang smiled at Clerk Xu, speaking with casual ease.

Clerk Xu had been running about for this matter these past days and knew well the difficulties involved. But “Li Half-City” was no ordinary person – if he said so, it was certainly true. It appeared he had spent considerable money for the family, at least tens of thousands of taels of silver, and the people he had approached were far more influential than those he had found – nothing less than Ministers or Vice Ministers, otherwise how could it be settled so readily.

“Master Li…”

“Fourth Brother Xu, now you’re being too formal. Don’t truly take me for an ‘official’ – that’s just to intimidate outsiders. Consider me a friend and change how you address me.”

“Then I shall respectfully comply. Elder Brother Li!”

“Ah, this is good – intimate with each other, and the wine drinking becomes more lively too.”

“I can’t drink any more wine.” With others making such efforts, he couldn’t continue playing dumb. “Elder Brother Li, though today is our first meeting, I have received great kindness. Great favor needs no thanks – since we’re so close and intimate, why not open the windows and speak plainly? Wherever this brother can help, I will certainly do my utmost.”

“Mm.” Li Wantang pondered briefly, then looked up at Lingling.

“Please sit comfortably, both masters. I’ll go see if there are any seasonal delicacies for the kitchen to prepare.” Indeed, Lingling was perceptive, immediately rising with an excuse to withdraw.

“Today’s gathering was only meant for pure enjoyment. Whatever matters there are, we can discuss them slowly. Since Fourth Brother Xu is so warmly loyal and frank in speech, then… I must spoil the mood.”

“Elder Brother Li is truly too courteous.” Having rented all of “Dou Yi Chu,” invited the star courtesan from the Refined Singing Small Troupe, and handled his lawsuit, naturally there was something desired. The matter had reached its crux – Clerk Xu dared not be careless in the slightest, focusing intently on Li Wantang.

“Earlier Fourth Brother Xu said ‘do my utmost’ – this I truly dare not accept. To be frank, I have some matters I’d like Fourth Brother to advise on. If you can speak without reservation, I’ll consider Fourth Brother a true friend.”

After such a large circle, the request turned out to be so simple. Clerk Xu found it somewhat hard to believe, repeatedly saying: “Of course, of course. Elder Brother Li is a key figure in the capital – outside in the forty-nine city districts, inside among the Six Ministries and Nine Ministers, who doesn’t give Elder Brother Li face? I’m eager to curry favor but can’t manage it – how can you speak of guidance? Please give your instructions.”

“Fourth Brother Xu flatters me too much. Before good friends I dare not act superior – such words I truly cannot accept.” Li Wantang drew a light breath. He had received Zeng Guofan’s solemn trust and returned to the capital this time to handle a major matter. In Zeng Guofan’s mind, this matter was no less significant than capturing Jiangning. If it could be handled well, it would mean Zeng Guofan owed the Li family an enormous favor. So Li Wantang had been racking his brains throughout the journey back to the capital, contemplating how to accomplish it perfectly.

This matter involved an extremely broad scope and was as difficult as moving mountains. To move it mountain by mountain would be exhausting and fruitless. Li Wantang actually already had an idea in mind. Inviting Clerk Xu was to find an insider to see whether this idea of his was truly feasible.

“Fourth Brother works in the Ministry of Revenue. I hear the entire Ministry is currently focused on a certain case. Is this true?”

“Sharp eyes rival cutting shears.” With these words spoken, Clerk Xu guessed seven or eight parts of Li Wantang’s purpose, immediately calculating in his mind what benefits he might gain from this. The benefits were enormous – Clerk Xu’s heart pounded, unable to believe such good fortune could fall from heaven onto him.

Clerk Xu thought and thought again, deciding it was better to speak truthfully before someone like Li Wantang. Li Wantang’s grand gestures today had moved him, making him believe the Li family would absolutely not shortchange him. Since this was so, it was better for the two to speak openly face to face than to hide and conceal.

“Elder Brother Li, I boldly ask – you’ve returned from the south, has someone entrusted you to serve as intermediary for this case, to negotiate prices?”

“Straightforward! I love discussing matters with someone like Fourth Brother Xu.” Li Wantang laughed. “Correct. The one who entrusted me is a Xiang Army boss. Which one exactly you needn’t ask – in any case, regarding Xiang Army matters, he can make decisions.”

The Xiang Army was founded by the Zeng brothers. If he could make decisions, it was either Zeng Guoquan or Zeng Guofan. Clerk Xu nodded knowingly.

“Since it’s like this, let me first calculate an account for Elder Brother Li.”

Clerk Xu dipped his chopsticks in wine as a brush and began pointing and drawing on the table.

Since the military campaigns began, all regions had been self-financing military funds. Military funding sources were roughly three: first, lijin – extracting travel taxes from merchants passing through land checkpoints and waterway ports; second, donations – silver voluntarily contributed by local wealthy households, later reported to the court for rewards; third, auxiliary funding – military funds provided by provinces not at war to fighting provinces.

These were the sources of “funds.” As for expenditures, there were also roughly three: first, monthly silver wages for soldiers plus reward silver after victories; second, purchasing military horses, weapons, and all supplies; third, purchasing military provisions.

“One soldier receives five taels of silver monthly, with food costs about the same. Adding military horse fodder, weapons and ammunition purchases and losses, military clothing, bedding, and tents, plus reward silver and death compensation, roughly each soldier costs one hundred fifty taels of silver yearly to maintain. Ten years of military campaigns means fifteen hundred taels.”

Clerk Xu paused here, looking up at Li Wantang for confirmation. Li Wantang had long calculated this account and nodded: “This figure is conservative, if anything. Moreover, there are so many officers who cost much more than soldiers.”

Seeing Li Wantang’s agreement, Clerk Xu continued: “The Xiang Army claims two hundred thousand troops, supposedly drawing thirty percent empty wages. But empty wages are still wages – it must still be calculated by two hundred thousand heads, which means…”

“Three hundred million taels of silver.” Even as Li Wantang spoke this figure, he unconsciously frowned. This sum was truly enormous – even “Li Half-City” was speaking such a vast amount for the first time in his life.

Clerk Xu smiled: “Besides this, there are construction costs for building large camps, post-war expenses for maintaining local order, and caring for all those captured Taiping prisoners – that’s also no small expenditure. These haven’t even been calculated yet.”

Li Wantang stroked his beard thoughtfully, then resolutely said after long contemplation: “Fine. Let’s assume a round number – call it four hundred million taels of silver. How do you calculate the ministry fees for processing reimbursement?”

This was Li Wantang’s true purpose for this trip – to scout ahead for the Xiang Army’s reimbursement, using his connections in the capital’s official circles to negotiate prices for the Xiang Army, determined to drive the ministry fees to the absolute minimum.

What were “ministry fees”? Though not formally regulated, they were customary payments to handling officials when conducting business at the ministries, passed down through dynasties. For over two hundred years since the dynasty’s founding, corruption was inescapable from top to bottom. Moreover, everything had “clearly marked prices” – every official matter required ministry fees to be completed.

Whenever the court deployed troops, whether fighting enemy nations or suppressing rebellions, reimbursement was required after the fighting ended. Every expenditure had to be reported to the Ministry of Revenue for accounting. Only after verification that the money was legitimately spent in proper places without embezzlement or misuse would the Ministry approve. After checking each item without problems, records would be compiled for imperial review. Only after the Emperor’s seal would the campaign be considered perfectly complete.

Previously, wars were funded by the Son of Heaven opening the national treasury, using Ministry of Revenue reserves for military expenses. However, when fighting the Taipings, the national treasury was already severely strained, so provinces and governors were ordered to raise military funds independently, with the court commanding peaceful provinces to assist – these were the three major sources Clerk Xu mentioned: “lijin, donations, and auxiliary funding.”

The money didn’t come from the court, and the Taiping suppression campaign lasted ten years – longer than anyone initially anticipated. Earlier expenditures often lacked detailed accounts, yet now required item-by-item scrutiny, creating countless loopholes. But this didn’t matter – as long as one was willing to pay what was euphemistically called “ministry fees,” even without detailed accounts, this enormous military reimbursement could still be processed. This was the skill of Ministry clerks – “taking people’s money to solve their troubles.” They could fabricate complete shelves of account books from thin air that no one could find fault with. Naturally, this required the entire Ministry to share benefits equally to ensure no one would expose the matter – hence why these fees were called “ministry fees.”

These ministry fees usually had set rates, though negotiation was possible. The subtleties involved depended on individual skill.

Clerk Xu thought that with his status and position, he was naturally unqualified to represent the Ministry of Revenue in such major matters. However, participating in consultations would bring future benefits, so he might as well make the matter larger – naturally the benefits would increase accordingly.

“Wait, wait. What I mentioned was only the Xiang Army alone. There’s also Li Hongzhang’s Huai Army, Zuo Zongtang’s Chu Army, plus various local militias… these add up to several hundred thousand more troops that will all need reimbursement processing.”

Li Wantang understood his intent, nodding noncommittally but not taking the bait: “I only handle Xiang Army matters. As for Huai Army and Chu Army, naturally others will come to negotiate.” Though he said this, once the foundation was laid, others would naturally follow suit.

Clerk Xu was also shrewd, immediately saying no more and following Li Wantang’s topic: “By regulation, ministry fees should be half a percent. Half a percent of four hundred million taels is twenty million.”

Twenty million! Li Wantang was secretly alarmed. The national treasury didn’t have this much silver, yet Ministry clerks planned to divide it all among themselves. This truly embodied the saying: “High officials who don’t want money should go farm; low officials who don’t want money leave their children without marriage prospects.”

As he frowned inwardly, Clerk Xu had more to say: “Elder Brother Li, the twenty million I mentioned reflects past prices. After ten years of warfare, ‘winter respect’ and ‘charcoal respect’ gifts everywhere have decreased by more than half. ‘Poor capital officials, poor capital officials’ – now they’re truly poor as church mice, with borrowing money and pawning belongings being daily routine. Who wouldn’t be red-eyed seeing this silver, all wanting to profit from it?”

Clerk Xu spoke truthfully. By old custom, processing reimbursements was the Ministry of Revenue’s responsibility, with other ministries occasionally assisting for minor profits. But after ten years of poverty, seeing such an enormous sum that the Ministry of Revenue wanted to monopolize naturally provoked dissatisfaction from all quarters. Later, clerks from various ministries privately held collective discussions, deciding that the Ministry of Revenue’s fees would follow old precedents, but all other ministries would “add surcharges.”

“The Ministry of Revenue handles money, so collecting ministry fees is still reasonable. Why should other ministries ‘add surcharges,’ and what’s the logic?” Even Li Wantang was completely puzzled.

“It’s worthless once explained. For instance, the Ministry of Rites handles ‘posthumous honors,’ the Ministry of War handles ‘armories,’ the Ministry of Personnel handles ‘merit evaluation,’ the Ministry of Works handles ‘camp construction,’ and the Ministry of Justice is even better – officials and soldiers everywhere have committed offenses against civilians, all under the Ministry of Justice’s jurisdiction.”

“Aside from the Ministry of War and Ministry of Works having some connection, what do the others have to do with reimbursement?” Li Wantang frowned.

“Naturally they bundle all these matters together and include them in ministry fees. Otherwise, how could they collect this money? It’s just using the reimbursement pretext to make a windfall.”

“How much do they actually want?”

Clerk Xu held up one finger: “One percent!”

One percent meant forty million taels of silver – this was the final result of inter-ministry negotiations. Only by paying this sum could the Xiang Army’s great achievement be considered glorious and flawless.

“What if Lord Zeng refuses to pay this ministry fee and insists on processing everything item by item according to regulations?” Li Wantang probed.

Clerk Xu smiled: “Lord Zeng is now over fifty. If everything were processed by regulation, even the destination of a single dose of ‘Zhuge Marching Powder’ would require detailed investigation. I fear that even after Lord Zeng’s death, this reimbursement still wouldn’t be completed. Should they discover crimes like drawing empty wages or false accounting, with constant imperial punishments, the victory would be worse than no victory at all.”

Though Zeng Guofan led the Xiang Army invincibly, if he fell into the hands of these veteran clerks and they employed bureaucratic delay tactics, he would find himself trapped in quicksand, with heaven unresponsive and earth unhearing – they could truly torment someone to death.

Before coming, Zeng Guofan had anticipated the Ministry of Revenue would demand exorbitantly, expecting him to pay over ten million taels. This money spent on plugging dog holes made Zeng Guofan deeply reluctant, and moreover, Jiangnan urgently needed reconstruction – they truly couldn’t spare so much money for bribes. But without paying, it would likely be “small devils toppling the golden Buddha” – commanding generals acted expediently during wartime, spending money likewise. Sometimes to boost morale, with a wave of the hand, hundreds of thousands of taels in rewards were distributed. How could every account withstand scrutiny? Should censors find some flaw and memorialize accusations of embezzlement with no defense possible, a lifetime’s reputation would be ruined.

Therefore, Zeng Guofan hoped Li Wantang could use his capital connections to find a solution benefiting all sides – handling the reimbursement matter brilliantly while not allowing these clerks to demand exorbitantly.

Unexpectedly, they truly were demanding exorbitantly. According to Clerk Xu, this matter was even more difficult than Zeng Guofan had imagined. All six ministries – War, Justice, Works, Personnel, Revenue, and Rites – were reaching out their hands. Ministry fees had doubled, and the people to handle had multiplied several times. To satisfy everyone was truly as difficult as ascending to heaven.

“Elder Brother Li, I’ve revealed the truth to you. How much can be cut depends on your relationships with the ministers and department heads of each ministry.” Having finished speaking, Clerk Xu poured himself wine.

Li Wantang’s lips curved in a cold smile. Officials from all six ministries, each wanting money, were truly like a tangled mess. To negotiate with each individually would mean running one’s legs off, and the prices negotiated would be negligible – no way to account to Zeng Guofan.

The more difficult the matter, the greater the achievement once accomplished, and the more Zeng Guofan would appreciate his efforts. Thinking thus, Li Wantang suddenly conceived a bold idea.

“Fourth Brother Xu, having discussed ministry fees, let’s talk about your personal situation. If this ministry fee comes through in full, how much should reach you?”

“Hah! Above me are ministers, department heads, division chiefs, secretaries, clerks… all are officials with ranks, each with large groups of relatives holding sinecures waiting to profit. I’m just a minor clerk who calculates accounts. If this much reaches my hands, I’d be completely satisfied.” Speaking thus, Clerk Xu showed five fingers.

“What ministers and department heads – they’re just occupying positions without doing work. In terms of experience, who can compare to Fourth Brother Xu? Five thousand taels? Ridiculous – that would be too unfair!” Li Wantang took an envelope from his jacket, placed it on the table, and gently pushed it forward. “Thank you for the guidance. Please accept this small token.”

“Oh…” Clerk Xu reached out to receive it. The envelope wasn’t fastened, so he looked inside, immediately widening his eyes and reaching in to gently unfold several banknotes. His breathing suddenly stopped, nearly causing him to faint.

Five banknotes, each a ten-thousand tael dragon-head large note.

From the moment Clerk Xu entered tonight, he knew he would certainly gain some benefits, but fifty thousand taels was truly shocking. He’d waited ten years hoping for five thousand taels in benefits, yet Li Wantang’s opening offer was ten times that amount. This absolutely could not be merely for inquiring about ministry fees.

Thinking this, Clerk Xu shifted his gaze from the banknotes to look at Li Wantang with confusion.

Li Wantang had seen such expressions countless times in his life. Opening roads with silver, there were few matters that couldn’t be accomplished – at least Li Wantang had never encountered any. So he was completely confident about his next question.

“Besides these fifty thousand taels, I plan to spend not one additional tael of silver yet get this reimbursement matter handled smoothly and successfully. Please help devise a plan, Fourth Brother.”

“Ah?” Clerk Xu seemed to have heard some joke, first stunned, then laughing heartily: “Not spend one tael of silver? Elder Brother Li must be drunk.”

Li Wantang didn’t answer, but his eyes, which had carried smiling warmth all evening, suddenly became sharp as knives.

Gu Pingyuan pointed to the water camp barracks not far away: “That’s the Yangtze River Naval Camp. If the information we’ve heard is correct, Brother Deng’s fellow countrymen from western Hunan are all stationed in this area.”

He looked at Chang Yu’er beside him: “Actually, I could have come alone. This is a military zone, and it’s really inconvenient for a woman.”

Chang Yu’er held a long case in her hands. She caressed the object and said in a low voice: “When Brother Deng led his team to Shanxi, my father was still imprisoned by Wang Tiangui. Though he died helping you deal with that villain, no matter what, the Chang family owes him a life. So I must come today – it’s my way of showing some small measure of gratitude.”

His wife spoke reasonably. Gu Pingyuan nodded and suddenly smiled. Chang Yu’er looked at him in confusion. “Actually, storming military camps has become routine for you – you’ve stormed a prince’s camp in Mongolia and a governor’s headquarters in Shanxi. This mere naval camp is hardly worth your notice.”

“Oh, you.” Chang Yu’er felt embarrassed by her husband’s teasing and lowered her head.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

They had reached the naval camp’s forward position. Though the Taipings had been crushed, remnant parties were scattered everywhere, so garrisons remained vigilant with strict security.

“Honored soldier,” Gu Pingyuan bowed, “I’ve been entrusted to deliver something to some fellow countrymen from western Hunan.”

“Looking for someone? What’s the surname and name, which battalion?”

Gu Pingyuan said: “I’m looking for western Hunan brothers from the naval camp who fought in the great battle at Hukou in the fifth year of Xianfeng.”

The sentry laughed in amazement: “What kind of search is that? In the fifth year of Xianfeng I was still farming at home – how can I find them for you? Don’t cause trouble, leave quickly.”

“Commander, please help us. We’ve come all the way from Huizhou to find someone – we truly have business and wouldn’t dare joke with you.” Chang Yu’er stepped forward and spoke gently.

This sentry had only recently joined the ranks and hadn’t even caught the siege of Jiangning – he wasn’t a military rogue. Hearing Chang Yu’er’s sincere words, he looked the couple up and down and said with difficulty: “But the people you’re looking for – I’d need to ask the veterans, and I can’t leave my post…”

Gu Pingyuan held a silver ingot worth two taels and pressed it into his palm: “Please trouble yourself, honored soldier.”

With money and courtesy, the sentry naturally had to think of a way to help. As he pondered, his eyes suddenly brightened.

“What luck – ask him and you’ll get everything you need.”

The “him” the sentry referred to was called “Oar Master.” Looking at his uniform, he was a colonel, over forty years old, with a chunk of flesh cut from his chin by a blade, eyebrows thick as two large oars, and a deep voice.

After hearing Gu Pingyuan’s words, he blinked and pointed a finger at himself: “I was on Lord Zeng’s flagship during the great battle at Hukou. Ask me whatever you want to know.”

Gu Pingyuan was overjoyed: “Commander, do you know someone called Deng Tieyi from western Hunan?”

“Deng Tieyi…” Oar Master stroked his beard, “I know him – that fellow was really formidable, earned a saber directly from Lord Zeng’s hands. Hey, we were all new to military service then, and he brought glory to us western Hunan people before the entire naval force. I still remember it now. I heard he was later transferred to Shaanxi to fight the Nian rebels – how is he now?”

Gu Pingyuan fell silent for a moment: “Brother Deng has passed away.”

“Oh.” Death was routine in the army. Oar Master just nodded. “So what brings you here?”

“Brother Deng and I were sworn brothers. I know he still has an old mother at home, so I want to ask a fellow from western Hunan to take some things to his family.”

“Just give them to me. I still remember where his family lives – it’s actually just a few mountains away from my home.”

Hearing this, Gu Pingyuan looked troubled and exchanged glances with Chang Yu’er. Neither husband nor wife spoke.

“I understand – you’re afraid I’ll pocket the family’s things. Since we’re meeting for the first time, this is understandable.” Oar Master was an old soldier with sharp instincts and immediately understood, saying quite readily: “How about this – I’ll take you to meet a few fellow countrymen to serve as witnesses.”

Gu Pingyuan felt embarrassed but for safety’s sake could only agree. The two followed Oar Master into the military camp. The naval camp only had its outer ring on land – inside, most of it consisted of large, wide boats connected together, arranged side by side to form barracks. Above flew unified dragon-pattern banners, while below, boats were connected with gangplanks. Each step caused swaying – Gu Pingyuan had to look back to care for Chang Yu’er, walking slowly, barely keeping up with Oar Master.

From various boats came the intermittent laughter of women. Through windows, one could see naval soldiers joking with heavily made-up women. The women’s voices were seductive and coquettish, their postures provocative. Occasionally their eyes met, and they would smile at Gu Pingyuan, then point and whisper about Chang Yu’er following behind.

Chang Yu’er knew these weren’t respectable people. Lowering her head and eyes was easy enough, but she couldn’t cover her ears. A few damnable words reached her ears. Knowing her husband must have heard too, she blushed crimson with shame.

After crossing seven or eight boats, Oar Master finally said “We’re here!” Chang Yu’er felt as if granted amnesty and hurriedly followed into the boat cabin.

Upon entering, Chang Yu’er immediately regretted it. Before her were five or six burly men, bare-chested, shouting and gambling, with large bowls beside them. The cabin reeked of alcohol, making one nauseous.

“Old Oar, what are you bringing a woman here for? My luck’s running hot – don’t let her jinx it.” The central figure had thick black chest hair, large eyes, and coarse whiskers, speaking gruffly.

Chang Yu’er had already hidden behind her husband, not daring to look at these men. Oar Master explained Gu Pingyuan’s purpose, and the men in the cabin looked at each other before stopping their dice.

The central man asked: “Helping handle a sworn brother’s funeral affairs – you’re not bad. What do you have? Bring it out and we’ll witness it.”

“Good.” Gu Pingyuan simply agreed, reaching back to take the long case from Chang Yu’er’s hands. Opening it, he took out a saber.

“This saber was personally bestowed by Lord Zeng Guofan. It was Brother Deng’s treasured possession. Please take it to his old mother as a keepsake.”

This saber was personally commissioned by Zeng Guofan, a high honor in the Xiang Army for rewarding brave officers and men. In ten years, only a few hundred had been issued. The men in the cabin all gathered around to examine it closely. Only the central man didn’t move – Gu Pingyuan’s sharp eyes noticed an identical saber beside that man.

“Just this one saber?” After Oar Master and the others had examined it, they returned the saber to its case and rewrapped it.

Gu Pingyuan opened the small bundle he’d been carrying, unwrapping it layer by layer to reveal a yellow jacket.

“This is the yellow jacket bestowed by the late Emperor to Prince Senggelinqin. Brother Deng was wounded fighting bravely at Shizuishan in northern Shaanxi and saved the Prince. The Prince immediately removed his yellow jacket and awarded it to him.”

This truly caused a sensation! Even the bold central man stood up, gazing at that brilliant imperial yellow. Oar Master was stunned, murmuring: “So Brother Deng achieved such great merit in northern Shaanxi.”

“Yes!” Gu Pingyuan suddenly became excited. “When the Manchu-Mongol cavalry dared not advance lightly, only Brother Deng led a group of old brothers in a fierce charge, disrupting the Nian rebels’ ambush plan. The Mongol Prince looked down on Han people, but that time he was completely convinced. Brother Deng brought honor to the Xiang Army.”

The central man walked over, took the yellow jacket and examined it carefully, then nodded: “Being awarded the yellow jacket makes one a Baturu – only the supremely brave receive this honor. This Brother Deng was truly exceptional.”

“If not for villainous scheming, he wouldn’t have died before the mountain god temple at Iron Hat Mountain.”

Gu Pingyuan’s eyes filled with tears recalling the past. He never learned the full truth, but Zhu Sheng’s betrayal to Wang Tiangui that led to Deng Tieyi’s death in Shanxi was undeniably true.

Mentioning Iron Hat Mountain’s temple, Gu Pingyuan clearly felt his wife’s body tremble violently behind him. Thinking Chang Yu’er was also grieving over Deng Tieyi’s death, he reached back to comfort her, finding her hand ice-cold and slightly trembling.

“A great man not dying on the battlefield is truly regrettable.” The central man sighed, handing the yellow jacket to Oar Master. “Guard it well. This is more precious than Lord Zeng’s saber. Displayed in the Deng family ancestral hall, any passing official must kneel in respect.”

“Yes.” Oar Master answered respectfully.

“There’s one last thing.” Gu Pingyuan handed over two banknotes. “I followed Prince Senggelinqin’s cavalry trading military provisions in northern Shaanxi. Brother Deng had a share in this. From the profits earned, here are twenty thousand taels – please also give this to his family.”

Hearing this sum, the cabin fell silent again. After a long while, the central man said solemnly: “You’re a merchant?”

“Yes, I’m the owner of Shunde Tea House in the city.”

“Do you know that if you didn’t mention it, no one would ask you for this money?”

“I know.”

“Do you find money burdensome?”

Gu Pingyuan shook his head: “Money doesn’t burden the hand, but it can burden the heart. I’m a merchant but never take money I shouldn’t. Moreover, this is what I owe Brother Deng.”

“Absolutely right!” The central man stared at him for a long time, then suddenly slapped his hands. “Brother Deng chose well in becoming sworn brothers with you. It’s not easy to earn my respect, Bao Chao, but today I respect you.”

Bao Chao? This name sounded familiar. Gu Pingyuan quickly remembered – under Zeng Guofan’s command were two great generals, naval and land forces: naval commander Peng Yulin and land commander Bao Chunting. Peng Yulin was wise and brave, while Bao Chunting was a fierce, unstoppable warrior.

Bao Chunting was Bao Chao – the man before him.

Gu Pingyuan was stunned. He knew some news from Jiangning’s official circles – over the years, Bao Chao had accumulated merit to become a First Rank Provincial Military Commander and Jiangsu General, a high-ranking military official in Jiangnan. Why would he be gambling on this unremarkable naval boat?

He didn’t know the reason. Bao Chao had started as a common soldier, later promoted by Zeng Guofan from the battlefield for his bravery. Though his rank grew, he still enjoyed mixing with soldiers – otherwise he wouldn’t have so many willing to risk their lives fighting for him. Bao Chao loved drinking and gambling, and was especially protective of his subordinates. While others pocketed empty wages for themselves, Bao Chao used them to earn extra money for his men. When he was a general in Hunan, he officially had eight battalions but only recruited four, telling his brothers openly: “Fighting means risking your life. Those truly willing to risk their lives are worth two men each. If eight battalions can win battles, so can four. When the time comes, whether wages or rewards, everyone gets double shares.”

With such words, naturally everyone competed to serve devotedly. Amusingly, drawing so many empty wages fooled even the Taipings. Once in direct confrontation, the Taipings learned Bao Chao only brought four battalions and assumed he must have sent the other four to attack from behind. They divided half their forces to guard the rear, but due to scattered strength, Bao Chao’s army defeated them piecemeal, easily winning a great victory.

Bao Chao was illiterate and often the butt of jokes in official circles, but Gu Pingyuan dared not show disrespect, immediately preparing to kneel in salute. Bao Chao caught him: “Who told you to bow? Look…” He pointed behind him. “These are all military brothers, differing from me by ten or eight ranks. If we kowtow back and forth, how can we gamble?” The soldiers around smiled hearing this – Bao Chao truly had no airs. He told Gu Pingyuan: “Shopkeeper, rest assured. The saber, banknotes, and yellow jacket will all reach Brother Deng’s family without fail. Anyone who dares pocket them, I, Bao Chao, will personally behead.”

Leaving the naval camp, Gu Pingyuan finally breathed in relief: “After years, I’ve finally settled this matter weighing on my heart.” Seeing Chang Yu’er’s pale face, he said with concern: “I told you the camp was no place for women. Were you frightened?”

Chang Yu’er shook her head: “Perhaps it’s the strong river wind – I feel unwell.”

“Then let’s return to the city quickly. Tomorrow I’m going to Zhenjiang to pay respects to Gang Leader Jiang Tai of the Canal Guild. You needn’t make the round trip. Stay at the tea house and rest well.”

“Mm.” Chang Yu’er agreed, then asked: “Brother Gu, will you also visit mother-in-law and sister-in-law?”

“Naturally – how could I pass by without entering?”

Chang Yu’er nodded silently, taking an oil-paper package from her jacket: “I made a pair of thousand-layer sole cloth shoes these past days, specially using thick cloth from Laizhou. Take them with you. Before leaving, I noticed the main hall where mother-in-law worships Buddha is very cold. At her age, she must take care of her health.”

Gu Pingyuan took the cloth shoes, looking gratefully at his wife. Chang Yu’er said with some difficulty: “Don’t tell mother-in-law I made them, or she won’t wear them.”

At this moment, the moon was rising over the river, white and serene, with only the sound of waves lapping the shore and crows calling. Gu Pingyuan held his wife’s hand, gazing at that eternal jade wheel in the sky, and sighed: “Yu’er, from when I went to the capital for examinations, then fled to Guanzhong, went to Mongolia, traveled to Shaanxi, and returned to Huizhou – the journey was full of hardships with barely any leisure. Several times I nearly lost my life, let alone living peaceful days. Sometimes I think, knowing it would be like this, why did I go to the capital in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been better to stay home as a farmer?”

In the magnificent sound of the tide, Chang Yu’er quietly watched her husband, listening to his words.

“But I don’t think that way now. Perhaps Heaven arranged for me to suffer so much and travel so far just so I could meet you and marry you as my wife. Even if only for this one thing, all the suffering I’ve endured and hardships I’ve faced were worthwhile.”

Chang Yu’er nestled against Gu Pingyuan, pressing her body close to his, burying her beautiful face in her husband’s embrace, softly weeping. Gu Pingyuan gently stroked his wife’s hair, faintly hearing her murmur: “I feel the same – as long as I can be by your side, I’m not afraid of any hardship.”

“I don’t understand why we must invite Wenxiang. Once he comes, my words won’t carry the same weight.” Climbing the steps of Prince Gong’s mansion, Bao Jun frowned as he spoke to Li Wantang beside him. Though Bao Jun had close personal relations with Prince Gong, he understood that in the Prince’s mind, he was at most a Dongfang Shuo-type figure, while Wenxiang was Wei Zheng.

“This is such a momentous matter that even with your close friendship with the Prince, how could he decide based on your word alone? Naturally he must consult other important ministers.” Li Wantang smiled. “Minister Wen is highly valued by the Prince. If he speaks up, combined with you providing support, it shouldn’t be difficult to persuade the Prince.”

“Will he help you?” Bao Jun helped Li Wantang for money’s sake, but Wenxiang’s favor with Prince Gong came precisely from his complete impartiality – naturally he wouldn’t take Li Wantang’s money.

“Rest assured, Minister. As long as Minister Wen is willing to listen to reason, he will certainly speak for me today.”

Li Wantang had recently entertained Ministry of Revenue Clerk Xu, spending fifty thousand taels to get Xu to speak freely and fully. The Six Ministries were the court’s nerve center, and clerks had their own circles, sharing information that couldn’t be obtained in restaurants or teahouses.

This time, Clerk Xu detailed the situation to Li Wantang: Regarding military expense reimbursement, the Six Ministries’ clerks were determined to make a fortune, having formed a united front with a bottom price of what Xu mentioned – “one percent,” meaning forty million taels of silver. Reportedly, someone had already compiled records showing how this astronomical ministry fee would be divided, written out item by item, just waiting for the money to arrive and be distributed accordingly. Clerk Xu also told Li Wantang that the clerks had investigated the Xiang Army’s “assets,” knowing that demanding forty million taels outright would be difficult to obtain immediately. So they planned to encourage high officials to memorialize for imperial decision, processing reimbursement annually, handling two and a half years’ worth each year, completing the matter over four years. This would yield ten million taels annually, with additional interest if negotiations went well, or interest deducted as the Xiang Army’s “discount” if negotiations failed.

Li Wantang listened with continuous cold laughter. Zeng Guofan’s position was also clear – this ministry fee absolutely could not exceed ten million taels, which was the Xiang Army’s bottom line. Given this gap, even sitting down with decision-makers for detailed negotiations would be impossible. At this point, Li Wantang abandoned hope of conventional negotiation.

So he needed to find another path. For the fifty thousand taels, Clerk Xu betrayed his colleagues, giving Li Wantang a strategy: Though military expense reimbursement involved all Six Ministries, to handle this matter successfully required jumping beyond the ministries to find someone who could make binding decisions with a single word – like the Buddha subduing the Monkey King, striking unexpectedly with overwhelming force, leaving the ministry clerks no time for alternative schemes.

This aligned perfectly with Li Wantang’s thinking. However, how to move this “higher authority” was the crux of the matter. He again consulted Clerk Xu, who had no brilliant ideas but shared everything he knew about court opinions on the Xiang Army, even rumors and gossip. From these words, Li Wantang suddenly had an epiphany and immediately approached Grand Secretary Bao Jun.

According to Yongzheng era regulations, there were six Grand Secretaries total. But mysteriously, whenever all six positions were filled, within half a year someone would inevitably have family troubles – either personal death or reporting mourning obligations. Over time, the saying “Grand Secretariat abhors completion” emerged. Due to this superstition, since the Daoguang era, the Grand Secretariat rarely had six members, preferably maintaining five – naturally led by the Prince Regent, with the remaining four being two Manchu and two Han ministers.

All major state policies originated from the Grand Secretariat. Becoming a Grand Secretary truly meant reaching the pinnacle of ministerial rank. However, upon hearing Li Wantang’s purpose, Bao Jun couldn’t help but intake sharply.

“I can’t handle this matter. The so-called ‘decision’ means the master’s intention – I cannot make decisions.” He waved his hands repeatedly.

Of course, Bao Jun had been well-fed with Li Wantang’s silver. Though saying he couldn’t manage it, he would certainly help. Li Wantang asked him to arrange a day when Prince Gong was at the mansion, bringing him to pay respects to the Prince, specifically requesting that fellow Grand Secretary Wenxiang also be invited.

Wenxiang and Bao Jun arrived one after the other. When they entered the Prince’s western flower hall, Bao Jun, being familiar, was informal, while Li Wantang naturally came forward to pay respects. Wenxiang frowned, wondering why this “Li Half-City” would appear in the Prince’s mansion.

Prince Gong, who followed, had the same question. This Li Wantang was full of tricks – from forged rebel documents to the Ten Thousand Tea Conference, every incident he created either shocked the court or sensation-alized the capital. This past year he’d gone to Lianghuai to manage salt fields. Now suddenly returning to the capital and specifically requesting an audience at the mansion clearly meant some important matter.

Indeed, Li Wantang’s first words made everyone’s hearts jump.

“Your Highness, honorable ministers, I’ve traveled day and night from Jiangnan to report urgent news to Your Highness.”

“What urgent news?” Prince Gong blurted out, then felt amused himself. Jiangnan had just pacified the Taipings, with daily express communications between local garrisons and the Ministry of War. If something major happened in Jiangnan, he’d know within three days – why would a merchant need to report it?

Li Wantang glanced upward, reading the slight disdain on Prince Gong’s face, knowing his words hadn’t commanded attention. He continued calmly: “Your Highness, if I’m not mistaken, recent memorials and documents from Jiangnan probably all report local tranquility, with government forces clearing remaining bandits who pose no threat, correct?”

Prince Gong smiled without responding, but Li Wantang’s next words made his smile fade.

“Unfortunately, these reports only describe Jiangnan’s surface appearance. As for the underlying turbulent undercurrents, even giving local officials ten times the courage, they wouldn’t dare put such things in written memorials to the court.”

“Turbulent undercurrents? Prefect Li, Jiangnan has just cleared the bandit troubles – why must you speak so alarmingly?” Wenxiang couldn’t tolerate Li Wantang’s exaggerated language.

“Ha, Minister Wen speaks incorrectly.” Li Wantang knew that without convincing Wenxiang today, he couldn’t move Prince Gong’s heart, and the matter would truly be impossible. This man had weathered every major storm – from British-French allied forces attacking Beijing to cooperating with the Two Empress Dowagers to capture regency ministers like Sushun, Wenxiang had handled everything calmly. Recognized throughout court and country as a pillar of state, moving him required not just shocking words but solid evidence.

“Does Minister Wen think my ‘turbulent undercurrents’ refers to those Taiping remnants – those jumping clowns?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Of course not. As you said, Minister, Jiangnan’s bandit troubles have been cleared, with Taiping remnants barely surviving – how could they still cause major disturbances?” Li Wantang spoke slowly, then suddenly raised his head. “I’m merely a merchant who doesn’t understand historical precedents. Minister Wen has read extensively – I hope you’ll enlighten me on something.”

Words spoken in this setting naturally had deeper meaning. Wenxiang focused on Li Wantang and nodded: “Speak.”

“In late Tang, when Huang Chao rebelled, the Tang Emperor indulged regional governors to suppress the rebellion, leading to warlords commanding troops independently. Later, when Huang Chao was defeated, did the Tang Dynasty thereby preserve the realm?”

After hearing this, Wenxiang stared intently at Li Wantang but didn’t immediately respond.

Li Wantang continued: “The Later Zhou established its capital at Kaifeng. When the Khitans invaded the borders, they specifically commanded General Zhao Kuangyin to resist the enemy. Did the Later Zhou thereby preserve its realm? At the end of the Ming Dynasty, Hong Chengchou defeated Li Zicheng and was appointed Governor-General of Jiliao, controlling one pass, three provinces, and four garrisons, specifically to oppose our dynasty’s founding emperor. Did the Ming Dynasty thereby preserve its realm?”

Anyone who couldn’t understand Li Wantang’s three consecutive questions had no qualification to enter Prince Gong’s western flower hall. After finishing his questions, Li Wantang didn’t look at Wenxiang but raised his eyes to observe Prince Gong seated above.

Prince Gong’s face showed no emotion, but his heart was shocked. Li Wantang spoke of historical facts, yet every word and sentence pointed toward Zeng Guofan’s Xiang Army – such audacity was truly excessive.

These days, Prince Gong’s greatest worry day and night was precisely the arrangement for the Xiang Army. During the last audience, Empress Dowager Cixi’s words clearly revealed extreme suspicion toward Zeng Guofan. When ministers wield too much power while the ruler is young and the state uncertain, trouble inevitably follows – history provides countless examples. As Grand Secretary and Prince Regent, whether it ended up being “Zhu Yuanzhang’s cannon bombardment of the celebration tower” or “an arrogant general poisoning the Han founding emperor,” he would have no face before his ancestors and would become a eternal sinner of the Qing Dynasty.

For this reason, he had secretly consulted with Wenxiang several times but reached no clear conclusion. Since ancient times, dealing with ministers who held high positions, great power, and commanded heavy troops involved two approaches: elimination or honorary retirement. The Xiang Army had just achieved great merit, and Zeng Guofan himself was a former Hanlin scholar respected by scholars nationwide. To condemn him on trumped-up charges without evidence would be impossible to conclude, and afterward no one would willingly risk their lives for the court. Wenxiang had spoken most clearly: “Unless the Zeng brothers actually raise banners in rebellion, if the court moves against him, it would be cutting off its own retreat.”

This left only the path of “honorary retirement” – a tactic this dynasty had used before. After Emperor Shizu entered the passes, fearing those banner lords might rely on their great achievements to disobey orders within the passes, he enfeoffed them all as princes and sent them to Fengtian to recuperate, using half the annual treasury’s ginseng revenues for these princes’ expenses. This was the strategy of binding them with wealth and honors, which Wenxiang strongly supported.

If this truly came to pass, naturally everyone would be happy. But Empress Dowager Cixi simply refused to grant Zeng Guofan a princely title, leaving Prince Gong in a difficult position. Later he simply shelved the matter, thinking “How could rebellion happen overnight?”

He thought this way, but unexpectedly today Li Wantang came to the mansion and immediately targeted the Xiang Army. “Could he have heard some rumors in the south?” This thought alarmed Prince Gong, who exchanged glances with Wenxiang.

Wenxiang understood and said slowly: “Prefect Li, your indirect approach amounts to comparing the Xiang Army to regional warlords and Zeng Guofan to Zhao Kuangyin – this is excessive groundless worry. Did you disturb the Prince today just to speak such baseless words? Truly ridiculous.” His face darkened as he continued: “Lord Zeng has achieved great merit through countless battles. Do you think the court must be jealous of his achievements overshadowing the ruler? Such wild speculation hoping to gain merit thereby – how can this be the proper words of a minister serving the state!”

Li Wantang was startled, then gently shook his head and smiled: “I’ve heard Minister Wen called our dynasty’s foremost experienced statesman, but unexpectedly he’s also a mediocre minister who harms the country.”

With these words, both Wenxiang and Bao Jun’s faces changed color. Prince Gong, who had always relied heavily on Wenxiang, angrily said: “How dare you! You’re merely a merchant who borrowed the court’s donation system to gain fourth-rank status, yet dare slander ministers and despise the Grand Secretariat like this. Guards…”

“Your Highness, please delay your anger.” Li Wantang looked directly at Prince Gong. “Does Your Highness truly believe the Xiang Army won’t rebel?”

Wenxiang interjected: “Whether the Xiang Army will rebel remains to be discussed, but even if they truly intended rebellion, you wouldn’t be privy to such information.”

This was a pointed remark. Though Li Wantang straddled both official and merchant worlds, his official rank remained low, and he had no previous connection with the Xiang Army. Having been in Jiangnan for barely over a year, even if the Xiang Army truly planned rebellion, how could Li Wantang know of such momentous affairs?

“This statement is incorrect. The Xiang Army’s rebellion isn’t in Jiangnan – it’s in the capital.” Li Wantang yielded no ground. After speaking these incomprehensible words, he immediately took a booklet from his jacket pocket, first handing it to Bao Jun, who then presented it to the Prince.

“What is this now?” Prince Gong didn’t open it immediately, remembering that forged rebel document that had made him lose face in court – also presented by Li Wantang originally.

“This is a newly compiled booklet by clerks from the Six Ministries, specifically created to divide the ministry fees from the Xiang Army’s reimbursement. The ink is fresh – there’s no question of authenticity. I obtained it from a Ministry of Revenue clerk. I hear there are many versions of such profit-sharing schemes, though the totals are identical.” Li Wantang had anticipated Prince Gong’s thoughts and spoke first, smiling: “I believe both ministers present have surely heard of this as well.”

This showed the benefit of having Wenxiang present. Prince Gong knew Bao Jun had dealings with Li Wantang and might speak for him, but Wenxiang would certainly speak fairly and directly. Indeed, after reviewing the document, Wenxiang exhaled heavily: “I have heard of this – the Six Ministries plan to pick the fattest portions to devour. I never imagined they would demand such enormous ministry fees.”

Though ministry fees were irregular practices, they were tacitly permitted by the court. Setting aside other examples, even Duke Fukangan of the Qianlong era, who feared neither heaven nor earth and bore thirteen unusual marks, had to pay ministry fees in full for reimbursement after campaigns – how much more so Zeng Guofan and the Xiang Army. Wenxiang sighed because this sum was truly excessive – forty million taels, when the national treasury didn’t contain even half that amount.

“This won’t do.” Prince Gong grew angry. “Summon the ministry heads – I’ll rebuke them face to face. Others fight battles while they sit idle and reap benefits – absolutely outrageous.”

“Your Highness, if you do this, you’ll harm the Xiang Army and essentially force them into rebellion.” Li Wantang smiled slightly.

“Why is that?”

“With Your Highness the Prince Regent’s authority, at your command the Six Ministries naturally wouldn’t dare demand even one tael in ministry fees. But what comes next?” Li Wantang paused, letting Prince Gong think for himself.

Li Wantang had miscalculated here. Though Prince Gong supervised state affairs, his position prevented contact with lowly officials, and he knew nothing about the Six Ministries’ clerks and their wily tactics. Though Li Wantang had led the conversation to a point demanding deep thought, Prince Gong remained confused and had to turn to consult Wenxiang.

Regarding the various corrupt methods of lower-level officials, Bao Jun knew even more than Wenxiang, so he spoke: “Forty million taels thrown away would make anyone furious. When the Xiang Army seeks reimbursement, these clerks will certainly create difficulties everywhere, finding any minor fault to reject applications. Communications between the capital and Jiangnan take at least three months each way. If they keep rejecting and returning documents like this, this reimbursement case might not be settled in ten years. The officers involved would have to appear upon summons, unable to rest year-round, with travel expenses plus various costs in the capital, and harassment by ministry officials…” Bao Jun shook his head heavily. “That would truly force the Xiang Army into rebellion.”

Prince Gong gasped upon hearing this. Just as he was about to speak, Li Wantang interjected: “If the Grand Secretariat remains silent and allows the Six Ministries to demand these forty million taels, the Xiang Army will still rebel!”

“How so?” Wenxiang frowned and asked.

“Can the Xiang Army produce forty million taels? They simply cannot at present, and even if they had the money, it should be spent properly: first, back pay must be cleared; second, reward money must be distributed; third, this unprecedented great campaign is finally concluding, and with two hundred thousand Xiang troops assembled for this purpose, with matters concluded it’s naturally time to dismiss the soldiers. By convention, six months’ grace pay is required. Until this money is distributed, two hundred thousand Xiang troops must remain assembled in Jiangnan. With no battles to fight and no pay to distribute, they can only harass the countryside, bringing disaster to the people. When officials and civilians become enemies with grievances reaching the sky, when both officials and people rebel, the situation will become truly unmanageable!”

“According to your words, giving this reimbursement ministry fee won’t work, and not giving it won’t work either – in short, the Xiang Army must rebel!” Prince Gong’s expression was very ugly.

“Whether the Xiang Army rebels or not depends on Your Highness’s single word.” Li Wantang knew his preliminary groundwork was sufficient and stopped being mysterious. “To speak frankly to Your Highness – I returned to the capital at Governor-General Zeng’s request to negotiate terms and discuss prices with the Six Ministries. But these corrupt officials insist on forty million taels and won’t budge. If this continues, Jiangnan’s people will again face devastation. Your Highness, the court spent four hundred million taels to suppress the Taipings. If it must also suppress the Xiang Army, Huai Army, and Chu Army, how many more taels would that require?”

He drew out his voice: “Moreover, could such money actually be spent?”

Li Wantang’s voice wasn’t loud, but it left Prince Gong, Wenxiang, and Bao Jun all terrified. The Taipings were suppressed using Zeng, Zuo, Li and others. If they were forced into rebellion, who could be used to quell them? Who had such capability? The time would probably come for dynastic change and establishing a new ruler. Thinking of this, the three couldn’t help but look at each other in alarm. Prince Gong, who had been pondering these matters for days, only now truly understood: Zeng Guofan absolutely must not rebel, the Xiang Army must be disbanded, otherwise great chaos would ensue, and if this chaos couldn’t be controlled, the Qing Dynasty would be finished.

“Zeng Guofan absolutely doesn’t want to rebel, but he must be able to control his subordinates. His greatest worry now is this reimbursement. If handled poorly, the entire Xiang Army will certainly complain bitterly. If they voice grievances about ‘birds being killed after the bow is put away,’ even Zeng Guofan probably couldn’t suppress them. If Your Highness commands exemption from this great reimbursement, it would demonstrate the court’s complete trust in the Xiang Army – an enormous favor. Then the court would worry less, the Xiang Army would have fewer troubles, and how could the Xiang Army generals not be moved to tears of gratitude?” Li Wantang spoke eloquently, every sentence reaching Prince Gong’s heart. Since the enfeoffment matter remained undecided, the court should have shown other favors to the Xiang Army to stabilize military morale. Exempting the reimbursement indeed seemed an excellent idea.

“The only unhappy ones would probably be the Six Ministries’ clerks.” Bao Jun smiled and added.

“Such people are hardly worth mentioning – how can state affairs be ruined for mere clerks?” Wenxiang spoke seriously. Li Wantang had convinced him, but he still harbored concerns: “The national treasury cannot provide this dismissal pay, yet the Xiang Army must be disbanded. Now that the war is over, asking Zeng Guofan to raise this money seems excessive.” This was true – after ten years of war with the state contributing not one tael, now not even providing dismissal pay would make all governors look down on the court. Though it seemed a minor matter of face, from the perspective of preventing gradual deterioration, the court’s dignity equaled authority. Once governors looked down on it, rebellious hearts might emerge – that would be a major issue.

The hall fell silent. After a while, Li Wantang quietly spoke: “If Your Highness agrees, the Li family can provide this money.”

“You?” Even Bao Jun hadn’t expected Li Wantang to volunteer, knowing this wasn’t a matter of one or two hundred thousand, but at least several million taels.

“What do you want?” Prince Gong was the first to see through Li Wantang, and now still the first to know his thoughts. After all the talk, Li Wantang was – a businessman!

“This matter concerns national fortune – I should naturally contribute.”

“What do you want?” Prince Gong remained expressionless, as if he hadn’t heard the reply, asking the same question again.

Li Wantang quickly glanced at Prince Gong’s expression, lowered his eyelids briefly in thought, then said: “The Li family has no treasure bowl after all. This money must come from Lianghuai salt taxes. If Governor-General Zeng could provide some convenience for Li family business, salt taxes would naturally flow continuously, and within a year this money would be available.”

“Ha ha ha.” Bao Jun, always informal before Prince Gong, laughed loudly: “Old Li, I truly admire you. If reimbursement is exempted, Zeng Guofan will certainly think highly of you. Add the Prince speaking well of you, and the Li family could truly command wind and rain in Liangjiang.”

“I would never dare abuse power or act tyrannically. Ultimately, the Li family’s management of Lianghuai salt fields depends entirely on Your Highness’s favor. Now is the time to remember the source and repay kindness.” Li Wantang dared not joke like this, quickly leaving his seat to remove his cap and kowtow.

Prince Gong now understood Li Wantang’s intentions. However, for a prince to be used by a merchant seemed too undignified. He weighed the pros and cons, finding it difficult to decide. He always relied on Wenxiang as his advisor: “What do you think?”

Wenxiang had been thinking repeatedly. Exempting military reimbursement had more benefits than drawbacks – better to give the favor to Zeng Guofan than satisfy the clerks’ desires. As for the dismissal pay, Wenxiang managed the Imperial Household Department and indirectly knew the treasury’s condition. The previous sum was what the Li family had contributed to obtain “First Tea” status. Now just distributing banner troops’ provisions consumed most of it – truly willing but unable. Thinking of this, Wenxiang smiled bitterly and shook his head at the kneeling Li Wantang: “Your Li family treasury has become like a small national treasury. You should be the Minister of Revenue.”

Bao Jun was the Manchu Minister of Revenue and blushed upon hearing this. Wenxiang realized his slip and said no more, nodding to Prince Gong.

“Fine, I agree to both matters.” Prince Gong said expressionlessly.

Even with Li Wantang’s deep composure, receiving this promise filled him with great joy. Just as he was about to kowtow in thanks, he suddenly heard Wenxiang say coldly: “Prefect Li, return to Jiangnan and conduct your business honestly. If I discover any illegal activities involving collusion with high officials or fraudulent cooperation, destroying the Li family would be a mere gesture.”

Li Wantang froze, slowly raising his head to look at Wenxiang, discovering those eyes were crystal bright, and his heart immediately sank.

“Master, it’s just ahead.” Peng Haiwan had sent a clerk who lived in Zhenjiang to accompany Gu Pingyuan to visit Canal Guild leader Jiang Tai. This clerk drove a large cart and, as night fell, arrived at a ferry crossing called “Eight Ferries” on the outskirts of Zhenjiang. Stopping the cart, he pointed to a dark mansion ahead, telling Gu Pingyuan that was Canal Guild leader Jiang Tai’s residence.

This place was very close to Golden Mountain Temple. In the dim twilight, one could still see a section of pagoda on the small mountain in the river. Gu Pingyuan estimated the time – his mother was now worshipping Buddha in the Guanyin Pavilion. He couldn’t help but look with concern several more times.

“Master, let me carry the bundle and accompany you inside.” Though this clerk lived in Zhenjiang, he’d heard Jiang Tai’s reputation since childhood but had never once seen this figure who commanded absolute authority on the Grand Canal. Having this rare opportunity, he wanted to go in and have a look.

But Gu Pingyuan refused, knowing these underworld organizations had many taboos. Since they were strangers, the fewer people going to the door, the better.

Gu Pingyuan took the bundle and walked directly toward the Jiang residence. As he drew closer, he was amazed by the mansion’s grandeur. The buildings themselves need no mention – from a distance one could see multiple courtyards, at least four or five sections deep. Beside the mansion grew dense bamboo groves with straight stalks, leaving a pathway to the entrance. When Gu Pingyuan was beyond the passes, he’d heard this was for security purposes. This pathway was most special – every three steps stood a burly man holding a lantern to light the way. The path was over twenty zhang long, and counting carefully revealed exactly ninety-nine men.

The hundredth was the doorkeeper – short jacket and black trousers, sharp eyes. He’d been watching Gu Pingyuan since he stepped onto the path. Seeing Gu Pingyuan approach alone with composed demeanor, he looked him up and down before asking: “Friend, may I ask your gang affiliation and generation name? Are you ‘top sail’ or ‘ground stepping’?”

Gu Pingyuan had consulted people in Jiangning and knew such questioning was inevitable when visiting uninvited. Though the Canal Guild had a policy of “admitting claims without rejecting them,” arriving at the gang leader’s doorstep was different from casually claiming brotherhood on the rivers and lakes. False claims of gang membership would certainly be discovered, so better to state his purpose openly from the start.

So Gu Pingyuan cupped his hands: “I dare not claim such. This younger brother is surnamed Gu, making a living in tea business in Jiangning city. Though I’ve had no dealings with gang brothers, I’ve long admired them. Today I have a matter requiring assistance and have come to pay respects to the Dragon Head.” He presented a gift list and name card: “These humble gifts show no proper respect, but please convey my request for an audience.”

“Oh, of course, of course.” The Canal Guild was the foremost gang, accustomed to receiving all kinds of people. The doorkeeper had seen much, accepting both the gift list and name card.

Visitors were guests, especially those bearing generous gifts, so naturally they should be welcomed inside. The doorkeeper led the way while explaining: “Our Dragon Head’s health hasn’t been good lately, and he’s recently caught a cold. I don’t know if he can receive guests. I’ll go report while you wait in the hall, Master Gu.”

This was laying groundwork in advance. Gu Pingyuan understood that Jiang Tai commanded a great organization of over a hundred thousand people. If every visitor demanded to see him, he’d be busy entertaining guests from New Year to year’s end. With no one to introduce him, meeting Jiang Tai wouldn’t be easy. Gu Pingyuan had anticipated this and responded calmly: “I’ve actually come to discuss business with the Canal Guild – a matter concerning millions of people in Jiangnan. I hope Guild Leader Jiang will spare some time to meet me. Moreover, this business relates greatly to the Canal Guild’s foundation for the next hundred years.”

“Oh.” The doorkeeper looked Gu Pingyuan up and down again. Having seen many people daily, if someone was merely boastful, they would inevitably be animated and frivolous-looking. Gu Pingyuan was different – after speaking these words, his expression remained normal, as if he’d said something perfectly natural.

The doorkeeper nodded impassively and turned to enter the inner residence. Taking this opportunity, Gu Pingyuan carefully examined the great hall. He’d originally thought the Canal Guild leader’s mansion would be like a Water Margin mountain stronghold with a “Gold-Sharing Righteousness Hall” plaque, or at least have rows of weapons displayed. But he was completely wrong. This tall, spacious hall had no screens on either side, completely open, with eight chairs arranged along the sides plus one in the center – seventeen total. On the main wall hung a zhang-two-high couplet reading: “Red flowers, white lotus, green lotus leaves – the three teachings are originally one family.” In the center hung a large portrait of a man with upper garment unbuttoned, lower garment unfastened, right hand grasping his own queue, smiling freely.

“This must be Patriarch Luo.” Gu Pingyuan had heard of this Canal Guild founder. Seeing incense before the image, he approached, lit three sticks of incense, respectfully bowed three times, and inserted the incense in the burner.

Just as he finished placing the incense, he heard a cough from behind the curtain. The doorkeeper emerged with two men in fitted clothing accompanying someone. This person was about fifty years old, with a horse-like face and short beard, slightly hunched, wearing a dark silk robe. He looked completely unremarkable, except for his eyes which occasionally flashed like cold stars, making one’s heart tremble.

This man glanced at Gu Pingyuan standing before the incense burner. The doorkeeper quickly introduced: “Master Gu, this is Guild Leader Jiang.” He then introduced Gu Pingyuan to Jiang Tai.

Gu Pingyuan hurried over, cupping his hands in salute: “Disturbing you at night – I’m truly ashamed. Please forgive me, Guild Leader Jiang.”

Jiang Tai indeed looked unwell. After polite exchanges, he invited Gu Pingyuan to sit, ordered fresh tea, and settled in the central chair with the doorkeeper’s assistance.

“Master Gu, I saw you offer incense to our founder. You’re not one of our brotherhood, and this isn’t a wealth god temple. What’s the meaning of these three sticks of incense?”

“There is meaning.” When offering incense, Gu Pingyuan hadn’t thought so deeply – he simply felt that coming to Canal Guild territory, respecting their founder would create a good impression. Now that Jiang Tai specifically asked, he showed quick wit: “I’ve always heard that before Patriarch Luo established the Canal Guild, the canal was plagued by water bandits with no rules, cutting off waterways and blocking silver and goods transport. After the Canal Guild arose, the entire canal enjoyed favorable conditions, with smooth north-south travel and extremely convenient cargo transport – this benefited merchants and naturally served both country and people. A hundred years have passed, and both sides of the canal still enjoy Patriarch Luo’s great kindness. I’m also a merchant who has received this benefit, so naturally I should offer incense in gratitude. This is the first reason.”

Mutual flattery – as an “outsider,” Gu Pingyuan’s praise of the Canal Guild founder naturally pleased Jiang Tai, who said: “Oh, there’s a second?”

“Not only a second, but also a third.” Knowing he was on the right track, Gu Pingyuan boldly continued: “Since the Taipings occupied Jiangning and brought chaos to Jiangnan, they forcibly severed the canal, again cutting off north-south waterways. Your guild, depending on the canal for livelihood, naturally suffered. Now that Lord Zeng has recovered Jiangning and the canal flows freely again, your guild’s revival is imminent. Patriarch Luo’s spirit in heaven would surely be gratified, so I offer him the second stick of incense to inform the divine spirits.”

These words carried the flavor of “When the royal army pacifies the Central Plains, don’t forget to inform your father at the family altar” – treating himself as Canal Guild family. Reasonably, Jiang Tai should have been more pleased, but instead he frowned. Gu Pingyuan was testing the waters, carefully watching every expression. Seeing Jiang Tai seemingly preoccupied, he knew the news he’d heard was mostly true, and continued: “Patriarch Luo was greatly talented, founding the Canal Guild’s century of prosperity. Who could have imagined the Taiping disaster would implicate guild brothers? Fortunately, Guild Leader Jiang is also an outstanding figure of Liangjiang. I’ve come today to discuss business with you. If this business succeeds, not only will guild brothers’ livelihoods improve, but Liangjiang’s people will thank the Canal Guild. I offer this third stick of incense hoping Patriarch Luo will bless us, allowing this business to proceed smoothly.”

This was precisely what interested Jiang Tai, who asked: “I hear Master Gu deals in tea, and the world’s finest Blue Snow Tea is produced by your family. Is this business you mention also tea-related?”

The Canal Guild was truly the foremost organization – just from reporting his name, they immediately knew his family background. Gu Pingyuan secretly noted this, knowing he couldn’t speak carelessly here, as they would instantly detect any vague words, making business impossible.

“To be frank, I’ve come this time to conduct business for Governor-General Zeng.”

“Oh.” Jiang Tai’s eyes widened, showing great attention to this matter.

So Gu Pingyuan detailed Jiangnan’s grain shortage and Zeng Guofan’s request for him to procure three hundred thousand shi of grain, including the grain prices he’d heard from grain shop clerks.

Jiang Tai, worthy of being a gang leader, was not moved by the enormous quantity of three hundred thousand shi of grain. After pondering for a while, he spoke: “Master Gu, as a gang leader, I’m fairly well-informed about market conditions. Currently, there’s less than fifty thousand shi of stored grain in all of Jiangnan, yet you ask for three hundred thousand shi with a single breath – that would pile up into a mountain. You say the people can only pay five taels per shi, but market prices are ten taels per shi. If grain is transported from Shanxi, Shaanxi, or the two lakes, with water transport, cart fees, and human labor losses, it would cost at least fifteen taels to sell. Where would this price difference come from?”

“I know it’s difficult, Governor-General Zeng also knows it’s difficult, so someone advised me to seek Guild Leader Jiang, telling me that if anyone in Jiangnan could still obtain these three hundred thousand shi of grain, it would be none other than the Canal Guild Dragon Head.” Gu Pingyuan’s flattery was prepared in advance. Indeed “a thousand piercings, ten thousand piercings, but flattery never pierces” – seeing the slight smile at Jiang Tai’s lips, he quickly struck while the iron was hot: “I know your esteemed guild has one hundred twenty-eight and a half branches, year after year transporting tribute grain, south to Hangzhou, north to Tongzhou, with connections to hundreds of grain shops along both sides of the canal. If Guild Leader Jiang would speak a word, having these grain shops sweep their storage bottoms, wouldn’t three hundred thousand shi of grain be available?”

Jiang Tai smiled without speaking after hearing this. Gu Pingyuan cupped his hands in his seat: “Since grain is available, we must discuss grain prices. It’s not that I deliberately suppress prices. First, your esteemed guild has its own grain boats, unlike outside merchants who must hire vessels when land transport fails – this saves a large expense. Second, grain shops are all close to wharves, with almost no losses during transport. Third, I’ve asked Lord Zeng, and he’s willing to clear out military camps to store grain, again saving warehouse fees. Finally…” Gu Pingyuan smiled apologetically at Jiang Tai, “the grain your esteemed guild can obtain probably won’t be of good quality, so prices should naturally be greatly discounted. Calculating this way, I think even selling your guild’s grain at five taels would yield substantial profit.”

Grain shops along the canal actually had countless connections with the Canal Guild – many shopkeepers were guild members, with the guild providing money to open grain shops. When transporting grain, the Canal Guild employed various theft and leakage methods, including so-called “draining peaks, kicking measures, bamboo leakers.” Like “bamboo leakers” – a hollow bamboo tube with a sharpened front end. When guild members carried grain bags up and down ships, they’d poke the tube into grain bags with the other end extending into their sleeves where a pocket was sewn. By the time they finished walking the swaying gangplank, the pocket would be full.

A single grain ship’s journey would yield at least a hundred jin of skimmed grain. Years of accumulation were stored nearby in riverside grain shops, which would sell according to market conditions and settle accounts with the guild. Frankly, all this grain was obtained without cost. Gu Pingyuan’s mention of “poor quality” was his polite way of not directly stating this fact.

Since the Taiping rebellion began, checkpoints appeared everywhere along canal waterways. Tribute grain was what Taipings must seize. Without absolute certainty, from the provincial administration commissioner down through grain intendants and prefectural-county officials, no one dared lightly mention grain transport. They’d rather accept “delay” punishments – at most demotion and salary reduction. If grain ships were robbed by Taipings, dismissal was the minimum, with possible additional charges of “negligent oversight, aiding rebellion” leading to dismissal and military exile – truly not worth the loss.

One official principle was “better to regret after not acting than to regret after acting.” So since military campaigns began, canal transport was actually in semi-paralysis. With no grain to transport, naturally there was no profit to skim, and even normal transport fees decreased greatly. Canal Guild brothers also needed to eat and support families. Seeing this situation, Jiang Tai instructed all grain shops to maintain steady flow, not selling too much stored grain lest the Canal Guild have nothing to sustain itself later.

This way, Canal Guild grain shops indeed had enough stored grain for Gu Pingyuan’s mentioned quantity, but this was the guild’s survival grain. These days, Jiang Tai had been calculating how to sell at high prices to settle guild members. Hearing Gu Pingyuan’s proposal, he was first startled, then shook his head and smiled: “Master Gu, your wishful thinking rings quite loudly. This is clearly profitable business, yet you want me to sell at a loss. Are you bullying the Canal Guild for not understanding business?”

“How would I dare?” The matter had reached this crucial moment – success or failure depended on the following argument. If he convinced Jiang Tai, all would be well; if not, all would be finished. Gu Pingyuan’s expression grew serious as he cupped his hands: “I’m a businessman, you’re a rivers-and-lakes person. But since we both make our way outside, may I ask Guild Leader Jiang – isn’t reputation most important?”

Jiang Tai smiled: “Naturally – why even mention it?”

“Since so, then businessmen and rivers-and-lakes people are the same – both must create a reputation, make their names known. With reputation established, any business can be done, any rivers and lakes can be traveled. If reputation is ruined and everyone opposes you, business cannot succeed, nor can rivers and lakes be navigated.”

“Master Gu, what exactly are you trying to say?” Jiang Tai grew somewhat impatient.

Gu Pingyuan continued unhurriedly: “May I ask – in Guild Leader Jiang’s view, how is the Canal Guild’s current reputation?”

“This…” Knowing his own family’s affairs, Jiang Tai reddened slightly and didn’t immediately speak.

“My mother is currently worshipping Buddha at Golden Mountain Temple, and I just visited Jiangning. I heard some rumors from both Zhenjiang and Jiangning – I don’t know if they’re true.” This was exposing painful truths. Gu Pingyuan kept his voice as gentle as possible: “Many people say that along Jiangsu-Zhejiang inland waterways, stretching over seven hundred li, when merchant and civilian vessels pass, Canal Guild brothers demand money for minor extortions or commit major robberies. Their extortion methods include: placing empty tribute ships across rivers so passing vessels must pay to proceed, called ‘crossing money’; choosing shallow, narrow waterway sections where two ships park side by side, preventing north-south vessels from passing until thousands accumulate, blocked for three to four days, then Canal Guild brothers collect silver from each ship before allowing passage, called ‘formation money.’ There’s also so-called ‘ship catching, rice allocation’ – when encountering merchant ships, Canal Guild members forcibly stop them, pouring one shi of rice into their holds and demanding silver for release. Otherwise, they lock up both people and ships under charges of grain theft, sending them to officials for prosecution, having pre-arranged collusion with authorities to share profits. There are various other schemes of cunning exploitation that I won’t enumerate. May I ask Guild Leader Jiang – are these things I’ve mentioned true?” Since the Canal Guild’s founding a century ago, probably only one person, Gu Pingyuan, had dared speak so bluntly before the Dragon Head, listing the guild brothers’ lawless acts finger by finger.

Whether from shame or anger, Jiang Tai’s sallow horse-face grew longer, changing from red to purple to black, his hand gripping the teacup tightly, looking ready to explode in fury. The two men beside him were probably Jiang Tai’s trusted bodyguards, certainly guild members. Hearing Gu Pingyuan’s unrestrained criticism of the Canal Guild, they were so angry their eyes bulged, waiting only for Jiang Tai’s command. Here in this deep mansion compound, outside in the dark windy night, with the rolling Yangtze nearby, killing someone and throwing them in the river to disappear without trace was commonplace.

Gu Pingyuan had real courage. Seeing this scene, he showed no fear but slowly used the lid to skim tea leaves, took a small sip, blinked and said: “If I’m speaking nonsense, then I’m at the guild leader’s disposal – even if you cut me three times and make six holes before sinking me in the river, I have no complaints. It’s just unfortunate that countless mouths are hard to silence, and fearsome rumors persist – these words might even have reached Patriarch Luo in heaven.”

This one sentence deflated Jiang Tai like a punctured ball. Yes, what good would killing Gu Pingyuan do? Wouldn’t that be covering one’s ears to steal a bell? Who along the canal didn’t know the Canal Guild’s recent actions? Jiang Tai himself knew the score – he was old and weak, and living in chaotic times, guild orders weren’t respected. Among these tens of thousands of brothers, many were no different from water bandits, with quite a few even planning to establish independent operations. Continuing this way, the Canal Guild faced disintegration.

Thinking of this, he sighed silently, and his anger disappeared without trace.

“Master Gu, your criticism is correct, but the Canal Guild has its difficulties that outsiders can hardly know, much less understand.”

Gu Pingyuan showed solemn respect. Just for this one sentence, Jiang Tai was worthy of being the leader of the world’s foremost guild. He’d heard Jiang Tai valued righteousness and distinguished right from wrong – this proved true. With this, Gu Pingyuan’s confidence increased further.

“As an outsider, how dare I make wild statements and empty criticisms here? Does the guild leader remember that when I first arrived, I said this business concerns not only Jiangnan’s people but also relates greatly to the Canal Guild’s rise and fall?”

“Hmm. You’ve come only to persuade the Canal Guild to sell grain cheaply – what benefit is there for the guild?” Jiang Tai didn’t understand.

“The benefits are too many and too great.” Gu Pingyuan leaned forward excitedly: “The Canal Guild urgently needs to reorganize and restore its reputation. What Jiangnan people most lack and most hope for is grain. Unfortunately, grain merchants manipulate prices, selling rice grains like pearls. Poor families eat once every two days, barely avoiding starvation – where’s life’s joy?”

“That’s true. A few days ago, a dead pig floated down from upstream, already rotting, yet hungry people jumped into the river to retrieve it, drowning several – truly ‘in chaotic times, people are worse than dogs.'”

“Exactly! Now in Jiangnan, whoever can provide grain becomes the people’s heaven-sent savior. Three hundred thousand shi of grain can save countless lives – what great merit for the Canal Guild! When mentioned later, all will say Guild Leader Jiang showed great benevolence and righteousness, the Canal Guild provided charcoal in snow, sparing Jiangnan people from hanging upside down in suffering. Even Patriarch Luo never had such glory.”

Gu Pingyuan spoke earnestly, Jiang Tai listened intently. Thinking it made sense, he couldn’t help nodding.

“This discusses reputation; now let’s discuss profit. Guild Leader Jiang shouldn’t think five taels per shi is selling at a loss. Consider – what sustains Canal Guild brothers’ livelihoods? Mostly the boat fees allocated by the court for south-to-north grain transport. Now Jiangnan faces imminent planting season, but farmers lack strength to cultivate – autumn harvest may yield nothing. Without harvest, how can grain be levied? Without grain levy, how can there be canal transport? Without canal transport, where does that leave the Canal Guild?”

Three consecutive questions left Jiang Tai shocked and alarmed, raising his head to stare unblinkingly at Gu Pingyuan.

“So even if only for the Canal Guild’s future livelihood, this grain must be sold to Jiangnan people – only thus can there be endless renewal. To use an analogy: when sailing on water, without that initial ‘push,’ how can there be a ten-thousand-li journey afterward?”

This was extremely clear reasoning. Jiang Tai, capable of leading tens of thousands of guild members, naturally had a clear mind. Almost instantly, he knew Gu Pingyuan was absolutely right.

“No tribute grain means no canal transport; no canal transport means no Canal Guild. Master Gu, you’ve truly awakened me from a dream. Without your visit today, with all my thoughts focused on earning more coins, I truly couldn’t see this. Good! As you’ve said, these three hundred thousand shi of grain…”

“Godfather, don’t let yourself be deceived!” Jiang Tai’s words were interrupted by a woman’s voice from the back hall. As the voice arrived, so did the person – a woman wearing a pure white long brocade robe embroidered with blooming plum blossoms in peach-red silk thread, gracefully emerging to stand beside the Canal Guild Dragon Head.

At first glance, Gu Pingyuan’s body involuntarily trembled as he stared at this woman in shock. “Master Gu, it’s been a long time.” The woman smiled sweetly, but her gaze was cold as ice.

“Yi… Yimei, how are you…” Gu Pingyuan unconsciously stood up, half-raising his hand to point at the suddenly appeared Bai Yimei. Due to extreme shock, he could barely form complete sentences.

“You know each other?” Jiang Tai looked suspiciously between the two.

“Of course we know each other. Last time we met, Master Gu really fooled your daughter badly. So I told godfather to be careful – he can truly deceive people to death without compensation.” Bai Yimei smiled as she spoke, sounding half-joking but carrying heavy hatred.

“Oh, oh. This must be a misunderstanding. Master Gu is a warm-hearted person who plans comprehensively for the people and the Canal Guild.” After their conversation, Jiang Tai had an excellent impression of Gu Pingyuan and spoke up for him.

“It’s for himself.” Bai Yimei said coldly. “I heard clearly from behind – his such concern is only because his business has reached Liangjiang, wanting to curry favor with Governor-General Zeng, so he took on this assignment, planning to trick you into selling grain cheaply. I say, though people can only pay five taels, there’s still the government – the court has relief grain and naturally relief funds to subsidize grain prices. Why doesn’t he mention this? Does he take our Canal Guild for easy marks to bully?”

This was another line of reasoning. Jiang Tai had originally decided to agree with Gu Pingyuan, but hearing this, his thoughts wavered again, pondering silently for a long time.

Gu Pingyuan never expected to encounter Bai Yimei here. He’d worried that when Senggelinqin was defeated and killed, Bai Yimei beside him might suffer collateral damage. Even if she luckily escaped, she’d face mortal danger among chaotic soldiers. Who could have imagined Bai Yimei would miraculously appear in the Canal Guild, even calling herself Jiang Tai’s goddaughter? Gu Pingyuan had known her since childhood and never heard their teacher mention knowing any Canal Guild Dragon Head, so this kinship must be newly established. Did Jiang Tai know her identity? Why had she come here, and how had she become goddaughter? Gu Pingyuan’s mind was full of countless threads he couldn’t sort or clarify. He hadn’t heard what Bai Yimei said, only staring at her blankly.

Seeing him thus, Bai Yimei smiled disdainfully and was about to speak again when suddenly there was great commotion outside. Immediately someone rushed in to report: “Guild Leader, terrible news – Big Brother Xu has been carried back!”

“What happened? Quick!” Jiang Tai stood up abruptly, about to go out to meet them. Before taking two steps, he saw a large group of people rush in – forty to fifty people. Two in the middle carried a corpse, immediately kneeling and wailing loudly upon entering.

Jiang Tai stepped forward and looked closely at the corpse. His body involuntarily swayed, his expression becoming tragic. Tears instantly fell from his eyes as he shook his head and sighed with streaming tears.

“Alas, why is my Canal Guild’s fortune so unfortunate? Jicheng, you left too early. With your departure, to whom shall I entrust the Canal Guild?”

The great hall became chaotic – some beat their chests and wailed, some cursed loudly, while most were deeply saddened with extremely grief-stricken expressions.

Gu Pingyuan knew the Canal Guild had met with disaster but had no time to care. He stepped forward two paces, wanting to ask Bai Yimei some questions, but before getting close, a figure blocked his way. This was a sixteen or seventeen-year-old youth who looked energetic, with eyes constantly darting about as if always looking for something to do.

Gu Pingyuan paused, looking past him toward Bai Yimei. But Bai Yimei no longer looked at him, instead walking forward gracefully, having servants arrange seating and settling most people down, calming the chaotic scene. Then she approached Jiang Tai, half-supporting him as she asked: “Godfather, is this your founding disciple, Big Brother Xu Jicheng?”

Jiang Tai sighed deeply and nodded: “Among the Canal Guild’s one hundred twenty-eight and a half branches, he was leader of the Tonghai branch. These years my health hasn’t been good – actually, most of the time he’s been handling affairs for me.” His eyes showed fierce killing intent as he asked the two who had carried in the corpse: “Jicheng was your introducer-teacher – one day as teacher, lifelong as father. How exactly did he die?”

The two men didn’t rise but remained kneeling, speaking through sobs for a full half-hour, relating the entire incident in detail.

Gu Pingyuan stood in the corner throughout, never leaving. He knew the Canal Guild had strict family rules – outsiders were absolutely forbidden during incense hall ceremonies. But today was different – this was sudden, and he’d been in the hall previously, so it didn’t count as trespassing. Besides his unfinished business with Jiang Tai, he also wanted to clarify Bai Yimei’s situation, so after thinking it over, he simply pretended to be oblivious, standing aside and listening.

The corpse on the ground was named Xu Jicheng, the Canal Guild’s second most prominent figure after Jiang Tai. With so many guild members, they were divided by geographical waterways into one hundred twenty-eight and a half branches, commanding 9,999 and a half grain ships. Among these, Tonghai branch was the largest sub-branch and, besides canal transport, bore the most important task of smuggling private salt.

Salt had always been government monopoly trade granted to merchants, called “official sales.” Selling salt privately without court permission was a serious crime – lightly punished by military exile and property confiscation, severely by beheading. Though punishments were harsh, “money makes courage,” and coastal private salt trading persisted despite prohibitions because profits were truly enormous.

Official salt cost thirty wen per jin. Sold to Anhui, Hunan and other places, prices increased seven to eight times; sold to Kangding, Mongolia, prices doubled again. Common people who couldn’t afford official salt sought salt dealers – private salt cost only one-third of official salt prices and was always popular among the people.

With such profitable business, the Canal Guild naturally wouldn’t ignore it. They had boats and people, and canal boats carried legitimate imperial tribute, giving them quasi-official backing. With proper arrangements at anti-smuggling checkpoints, smuggling private salt on canals was almost an open secret. As long as they weren’t excessive, officials turned a blind eye. The Canal Guild could not only smuggle in canal areas but also act as salt lords, reselling private salt to salt gang leaders and dealers, using canals as arteries to spread outward. Half of Qing Dynasty subjects had eaten Canal Guild-transported private salt.

Money from private salt sales was used first to maintain guild public property like Hangzhou Gongchen Bridge ancestral temple, then to supplement guild brothers’ household expenses. Half the Canal Guild’s cohesion came from this. So private salt smuggling was crucial to the Canal Guild, always undertaken by Tonghai branch, with only the guild’s most capable members becoming Tonghai branch leaders.

Before joining the guild to honor ancestors, Xu Jicheng had attended school and been a xiucai scholar with learning, many ideas, great understanding of larger picture, fair dealings, plus being Jiang Tai’s founding disciple. He’d led Tonghai branch for over twenty years as Jiang Tai’s most capable assistant, greatly trusted by guild members.

However, the past ten years had been difficult. Lianghuai salt fields were already struggling due to Yangzhou salt merchants’ collapse, and warfare scattered salt workers with almost no production. “Even clever wives can’t cook without rice” – this was the same principle as grain. The Canal Guild didn’t farm or manage salt fields but needed grain and salt to profit through official transport and private smuggling. Now empty-handed, they could only cry helplessly.

If the Canal Guild had more reasonable people, they wouldn’t blame Xu Jicheng, as anyone would be powerless. But most guild members were illiterate sailors and laborers, so Xu the leader had suffered much slander these years. Some even maliciously claimed he embezzled public funds, demanding incense hall trials and at minimum his dismissal from Tonghai branch leadership.

Xu Jicheng could maintain his position as Tonghai branch leader only because Jiang Tai trusted this disciple and strongly supported him in the guild. So Xu Jicheng felt grateful and determined to repay this kindness. With Taipings destroyed and Lianghuai salt fields taken over by capital merchants beginning large-scale salt production again, he rallied his spirits to make up for recent years’ losses.

Xu Jicheng’s plans were good, but he hadn’t anticipated that subsequent inspections everywhere became even stricter than before, because Hong Xiuquan’s son Hong Tianguifu had escaped from Jiangning, prompting massive Xiang Army searches. This made Xu Jicheng very anxious – during Taiping troubles, there were still justifiable reasons, but now with Taipings suppressed, if Tonghai branch still couldn’t profit for guild brothers, even Jiang Tai couldn’t protect him.

So Xu Jicheng took desperate risks, using tributary streams and small routes to transport salt. When large ships couldn’t pass, he switched to shallow-draft boats; when absolutely necessary, he went overland. Personnel were divided into small groups of no more than ten each to avoid attracting official attention. If discovered, abandoning salt packages meant smaller losses.

This worked well for several months, but unexpectedly, today disaster struck. According to Xu Jicheng’s rules, private salt smuggling used relay stations – each batch handled only one segment, with handovers at agreed locations. To boost guild morale, Xu Jicheng led by example, taking seven or eight people through a small path in Shaobo Lake’s west grasslands near Gaoyou, meeting the next group at Kongjia Bridge.

The two groups should have met at wei hour in the afternoon, but after waiting two full hours until you hour with no sign of them, something had definitely happened. So Tonghai branch members waiting at Kongjia Bridge went forward to meet them. Reaching a dangerous shoal, they found in the reed marshes that all seven or eight people with Xu Jicheng were dead from sword wounds, but Xu Jicheng was missing.

After searching, they finally found the Tonghai branch leader several li away, also severely wounded. Brotherhood had protected his escape to this point. Seeing the rescue party, he left one sentence before dying.

“What words?” Jiang Tai asked urgently. These words must be crucially important. Xu Jicheng’s smuggling routes were top secret – to prevent betrayal, even other Canal Guild members didn’t know them except Tonghai branch brothers. Anyone able to ambush on this route was certainly an insider. Xu Jicheng’s dying words would naturally expose the murderer’s true identity.

“The situation was critical. The one who found him was a minor guild member but clear-headed. Seeing our leader couldn’t catch his breath, he immediately asked ‘Who’s the enemy?’ According to him, my master looked at him, opened his mouth, and finally said ‘The opponent is thirty-something.’ After these words, master passed away.”

The Tonghai branch leader’s assassination was the worst possible situation. Guild members both carried the corpse to Zhenjiang and sent warnings along the route, notifying Tonghai branch leaders to come, including all findable guild elders and leaders. People gathered increasingly, and by reaching Zhenjiang, half the Canal Guild’s important figures had arrived upon hearing the news, now all assembled in the Jiang family’s reception hall.

“Opponent thirty-something?” Jiang Tai muttered in repetition, completely confused, seeing others equally puzzled.

Speaking of thirty-something people, the Canal Guild had nearly ten thousand, with Tonghai branch alone having several hundred. Xu Jicheng, probably delirious before death, would say such words. Jiang Tai thought helplessly, shaking his head despondently.

Everyone thought likewise, except Gu Pingyuan was initially startled, then rolled his eyes thoughtfully. His eyebrows suddenly raised with a look of sudden understanding.

Others didn’t notice, but Bai Yimei caught this with a glance. Having known Gu Pingyuan for years, she was too familiar with his every move. Seeing his apparent enlightenment, she pondered briefly, then beckoned the young man beside her, whispering instructions.

Gu Pingyuan’s mind struggled intensely. He’d already deduced the murderer’s identity from Xu Jicheng’s dying words, but this was ultimately Canal Guild family business. As an outsider, remaining here was already improper – speaking up would be even more transgressive. Rivers and lakes vengeances were inherently unclear – who knew right from wrong? Once these words were spoken, it would likely mean bloody carnage with countless deaths. To say it was due to his meddling would be creating evil karma.

So he decided firmly not to speak. Just then, he felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning, he saw the young man beside Bai Yimei.

Though young, this person affected an old-fashioned manner, raising his chin at Gu Pingyuan: “Our big sister asks you – what did Elder Xu’s dying words mean?”

This young man was naturally Zhang Piying, who had killed Senggelinqin. Acting on Prince Liang’s orders, he stayed by Bai Yimei’s side both to avoid disaster and assist her. Bai Yimei found him sincere and wanted to win him over, so they became sworn siblings. Zhang Piying was honest-hearted – having a sworn sister, he devoted himself completely to her like a real sister. Though Bai Yimei hadn’t told Zhang Piying about Gu Pingyuan, since his sworn sister was hostile toward him, Zhang Piying naturally showed no courtesy.

Hearing his rude tone, Gu Pingyuan became angry but didn’t argue for Bai Yimei’s sake. However, what he was asked was currently of great importance. Gu Pingyuan looked toward Bai Yimei, seeing she too was watching this way. Initially frosty-faced, gradually her gaze seemed to soften somewhat.