In the capital.
The northern land is bathed in March’s spring breeze, with fragrant carriages streaming forth in merry excursions to enjoy the season.
On such a spring day, gazing through the carriage window at the passing vehicles, Pei Shaojin couldn’t help but recall his younger years, when his tutor would take him and his fellow students on spring outings every year without fail.
The wind rises, pear blossoms fall, and all the students venture beyond the city gates.
The more he thought on it, the more resolute he became. He submitted his memorial to the Office of Transmission — resigning from his post as Supervising Censor of the Ministry of War, to serve as a quiet compiler in the Hanlin Academy instead, and wait until the current storm had passed before deciding what to do next.
Having submitted the memorial, Shaojin let out a sigh of relief.
Shortly thereafter, the Office of Transmission forwarded the memorial to the Grand Secretariat. By afternoon, Senior Grand Secretary Xu had summoned Shaojin, and with considerable reluctance asked: “Zhongya, have you thought this through carefully?” Once he surrendered his position as a remonstrance official, when he might next have the opportunity to speak out at court was anyone’s guess.
It was truly a pity to resign from the post of Supervising Censor of the Ministry of War.
Pei Shaojin nodded and replied: “The coastal pirates are connected to remnants of the previous dynasty — truth and falsehood are difficult to untangle at present. With the Earl’s residence already in such a precarious position, if your nephew were to become further entangled in the affairs of the northern Tatar borderlands, it would only become more difficult to explain.” It would only give others additional grounds for attack.
There was no other way.
Senior Grand Secretary Xu fell silent for a moment, then let out a short sigh and said: “Keeping a low profile is for the best. You are both still young, and there will be opportunities ahead.” Xu Zhannian had risen from humble origins and had always adhered to the doctrine of the mean in his conduct — at such a time, caution was indeed the wisest course.
He added: “Regarding the matter of the Japanese envoys’ imperial audience, I have also told Zicheng to hold off for now and keep a low profile.” Xu Yancheng was currently undergoing his observational training at the Ministry of Rites, managing dealings with foreign envoys — following in his grandfather’s footsteps.
“I have caused trouble for my elder uncle.”
Senior Grand Secretary Xu smiled and waved his hand, saying nothing. They were family, and one didn’t speak of such things between family — though those words could not be said aloud.
He had thought the matter was settled. Shaojin had even begun preparing to vacate his office in the Six Bureaus, when the very next day he received a reply letter from his elder brother.
The four characters “do not concern yourself with family affairs” in the letter seemed on the surface to be telling him “do not let family matters delay your official career” — advising him not to resign — but their true meaning required careful consideration.
With their father away from home, Shaojin could only puzzle it out for himself — Pei Bingyuan had led National Academy tribute students to Datong to manage the spring river ice blockage and had not yet returned.
Half an hour later, Shaojin had worked out seven or eight parts of the meaning — these “family affairs” might be missing a character, and actually referred to “imperial family affairs.” This was the true reason for the Emperor’s unpredictable moods.
As for what problem had arisen within the imperial clan, his elder brother might not know, or might know but not dare to write it, and Shaojin likewise dared not guess or speculate wildly.
With his elder brother’s reply in hand, the anxiety that had been weighing on Pei Shaojin’s heart settled. He first went to Zhaolu Courtyard to pay his respects to his mother. Ever since Lin Shi had caught wind of rumors from outside, she had been constantly worried about her son, living in daily apprehension. The Fourth Sister had often come to offer comfort, but had been unable to cure her of this anxiety.
“Mother, Elder Brother has written back.”
Shaojin’s expression was relaxed and his words light — clearly not feigned — which put Lin Shi’s heart at ease. She asked: “What did Huai say?”
Pei Shaojin replied: “Elder Brother told us not to worry, saying he has things well in hand.”
“Then why has it been rumored at court that…those things?”
After a brief silence, Lin Shi saw that Shaojin seemed unable to speak freely and appeared to be considering how to reply, so she took the initiative and said: “Never mind, never mind. I understand there are some things that aren’t convenient to discuss, and that I shouldn’t know. Besides,” she added, “I am only a woman. As long as you two brothers have worked things out between yourselves, and there is truly no problem, just tell me the outcome so I need not worry. That is enough for me.”
“Mother is right,” Shaojin replied, and offered further reassurance: “Mother must also take care of her health. That way, Elder Brother can focus on his work in Shuang’an Prefecture with peace of mind.”
“Such dutiful children.” With her anxiety relieved, Lin Shi’s spirits naturally improved.
She then reminded him: “Yiyao’s belly should be due to deliver soon as well. In these coming days, ease up a little on your official duties and look after things at home more. I shall also go see her in the next couple of days.”
“Your son understands. Thank you for your concern, Mother.”
Leaving Zhaolu Courtyard, Shaojin hurried toward the palace while lamenting to himself that he was still not steady enough in his actions — he had rushed to submit the memorial without waiting for his elder brother’s reply.
He could only hope there was still a chance to intercept it.
Upon entering the palace, he learned that the memorial had been sent into the Imperial Study two hours prior. Pei Shaojin had no choice but to steel himself and head to the Qianqing Palace, requesting that the inner attendant announce his request for an audience.
Inside the Imperial Study, two dishes of pastries sat on the imperial desk. The Emperor was in poor spirits today and had no appetite — he hadn’t touched a single piece.
“Your Majesty, the Second Lord Pei requests an audience,” Chief Eunuch Xiao reported.
“This Pei Second, he has actually come to me of his own accord.” Though the words sounded like complaints, his furrowed brow eased somewhat. The Emperor intended to tease Pei Shaojin a little — just the thing to dispel his melancholy.
Pei Shaojin performed his obeisance below. The Emperor glanced at the pastries on the desk and asked: “Has Lord Pei come because he knew We had these freshly served dishes of pastries, and specifically came to beg a piece to taste?” After more than a year of interactions, the Emperor had come to understand the temperament of both brothers — compared to the elder, the younger brother before him was somewhat more “greedy for food.”
And also somewhat bolder in his speech.
Pei Shaohuai was careful and steady, while Pei Shaojin was the type who, given the Emperor’s indulgence, would dare to climb right up the pole. The elder brother had an elder brother’s manner, and the younger brother had a younger brother’s manner.
Pei Shaojin replied: “That is precisely so. Your servant boldly requests that Your Majesty bestow a piece of pastry to taste.”
The Emperor waved his hand, letting Chief Eunuch Xiao take down the pastries and allowing Shaojin to pick for himself.
Pei Shaojin boldly continued: “Since Your Majesty has bestowed pastries upon your servant, might Your Majesty also ‘bestow back’ your servant’s memorial?”
The Emperor pretended to draw Shaojin’s memorial from among a pile, and replied: “That will not do. Your servant worked hard to write this memorial, and We have not yet personally reviewed it — how could We return it? Wait until We have signed and approved it, then We shall return it to you.”
This was not a case of not having personally reviewed it — clearly he had read it already and was deliberately teasing Shaojin.
If it were truly approved, the post would be gone. Pei Shaojin quickly said: “Since Your Majesty has not yet personally reviewed it, all the better. Your servant wrote the memorial and then had a change of heart — I would not wish to make Your Majesty laugh.”
The Emperor burst out laughing, his mood considerably improved, and said: “You do dare to speak.” He had Chief Eunuch Xiao return the memorial to Pei Shaojin.
Everything has its reasons, and the Emperor asked: “It was Boyuan who wrote you a letter, was it not?”
Pei Shaojin dared not conceal anything, and replied: “To answer Your Majesty, indeed it was Elder Brother who wrote back.”
The Emperor wore an expression of “exactly as I expected,” and educated Pei Shaojin: “In chess, you still need to learn properly from Boyuan — he plays well.” At court, Boyuan had never once “taken back a move.”
“Your Majesty’s instruction is well-received. Your servant has another matter to report,” Pei Shaojin said. “There has been much happening at the residence lately, and my wife is expecting delivery soon. Your servant wishes to request leave for one month — I ask that Your Majesty grant this.”
Since the Son of Heaven had no intention of holding the Pei family to account, and even praised Pei Shaohuai, the wave of attacks at court would be investigated, and one way or another should have calmed down within a month.
Pei Shaojin’s timely “disappearance” to keep a low profile was also a way of relieving the Emperor’s worries.
“You’ve learned quickly.” The Emperor laughed. “We grant it.”
Pei Shaojin took his leave. He had already walked to the doorway when the Emperor called him back.
The Emperor hesitated for a long while before saying: “The next time you write a letter, remember to tell your elder brother — just say…don’t spend all his time writing only family letters.”
Pei Shaojin started, then quickly replied: “Your servant receives this imperial command.” He added: “And also receives it on Elder Brother’s behalf.”
……
……
Yan Chengzhao was busy conducting secret investigations; Pei Shaohuai was busy constructing the Shuang’an port wharf. During the days, Yang Shiyue and the County Princess Zhao often gathered together for leisurely conversation.
The two of them were on very good terms.
Speaking of how many beautiful singers and dancers had suddenly appeared throughout the city, parading themselves about conspicuously, Yang Shiyue said: “My husband says that such tactics, he had already encountered once when he was in his teens — whoever devised such a scheme is far too underestimating of him.” The encounter in his teens referred to the idle hanger-on Yin Wu.
Indeed, a man of steadfast heart — how could he not also be steadfast in body?
As for Yan Chengzhao, who always appeared cold and forbidding to outsiders yet held his wife and children as precious treasures at home — there was no need to worry about him either. Last New Year’s Eve, whenever County Princess Zhao gave the slightest light cough, Yan Chengzhao looked ready to rush over at once — that alone was testament enough to his feelings.
Yang Shiyue teased County Princess Zhao lightly about this, and County Princess Zhao lowered her head, both cheeks flushing crimson.
If one were to say that Pei Shaohuai and his wife were like the bright moon rising over the Huai River with a southern breeze — their meeting, acquaintance, understanding of each other and devotion to one another all flowing naturally, as if it could not be otherwise — then Yan Chengzhao and County Princess Zhao were more like two faint candle flames in a cold night, who after being joined by imperial decree had sensed each other’s warmth in the darkness and blazed suddenly into ardent fire.
……
At the Shuang’an port wharf, the shoreline had already been leveled — stretching into the distance, it looked somewhat barren.
The people were busy quarrying stone from the mountains, then hauling it to the shore to be laid firmly, piece by piece, into embankments. The workforce was somewhat lacking — it was a comparatively time-consuming process.
That day, several large boats of stone arrived from Quanzhou Prefecture, saying that as a neighboring prefecture, they wished to contribute their share.
Yet the delivery came with a tone of sarcastic insinuation: “The Prefect says that if this wharf is successfully built, it might eventually serve Quanzhou Prefecture’s purposes — so contributing a share is only right.”
The implication being: all this effort building the wharf, and in the end it might just be making a wedding dress for Quanzhou Prefecture.
Bao Bantou reported this matter to Pei Shaohuai and hesitantly asked: “My Lord, should we keep this stone?”
“Keep it,” Pei Shaohuai said. “Why refuse what is given freely?”
He added: “Pass this news along while you’re at it — just say that Quanzhou Prefecture is sending us stone.” Freely given advantages that could spare the people some labor should certainly be accepted.
As for Wang Chu’s side — ever since the Battle of Fengwei Gorge, Pei Shaohuai had sent Bao Laojiu to relay messages inviting him to meet several times. Perhaps feeling that he had failed Pei Shaohuai’s trust, Wang Chu had consistently declined to meet.
It was only after news of Shuang’an Prefecture’s construction of the wharf spread that Wang Chu came forward to request a meeting of his own accord.
They met again on the island, as before.
This time, the stone table bore neither fine wine nor delicacies — only the howling of sea wind.
“I have heard that Lord Pei has offended Prefect Xie and is still proceeding to build a wharf in Shuang’an Prefecture. Wang takes the liberty of coming to offer a word of caution — my Lord may listen to it or not, as he sees fit.”
“Island Master Wang, please speak.”
“Outsiders only know that Prefect Xie keeps a concubine in his household, but few know that this concubine is the own younger sister of the Island Master of Qun Island — she endured a thousand difficulties to bear him a son, yet the child is being raised at his maternal uncle’s side.” Wang Chu said.
The Island Master of Qun Island was none other than another, more powerful pirate leader — Xu Wu.
He continued: “As for matters on Qun Island, Lord Pei would have an even harder time finding out about them. You certainly don’t know how many concubines Xu Wu keeps, and even less that Xu Wu has a third concubine who wears the clothing of our Da Qing but has a Japanese name — Mori Erqin.”
This statement contained considerable intelligence.
The collusion between officials, pirates, and Japanese raiders had reached the serious degree of being cemented by marital ties.
By this account, Prefect Xie was an official on the surface but a bandit in substance. Xu Wu on his island was not only a pirate but also colluding with Japanese raiders — making him a traitor as well.
This intelligence, without Wang Chu’s reminder, would have required Yan Chengzhao considerable means and time to uncover through investigation. Moreover, Yan Chengzhao was currently busy with another matter — how could he have the leisure to attend to these details?
Pei Shaohuai said: “I thank Island Master Wang for the warning.”
“Lord Pei is too courteous,” Wang Chu said with a shamed expression. “After all, it was I who failed to keep our agreement first and broke the trust between us. What I do now is merely trying to make what amends I can.” He bade farewell and turned to descend the island.
Having witnessed Prefect Xie’s sordid conduct, Pei Shaohuai still could not fully empathize with Wang Chu, yet he had come to understand him better. Moreover, in the current circumstances, Pei Shaohuai needed to seize every force he could utilize.
“Island Master Wang, please wait.” Pei Shaohuai called out to Wang Chu’s retreating back. “Some men turn to evil for profit, while others have simply run out of options. Since Island Master Wang has had the heart to come today and inform me of all this, why not cooperate with each other once more?”
“Occupying an island as a bandit is inherently untrustworthy — why should my Lord take such a risk?” Wang Chu replied. “Wang is not a man of his word.”
“Between people, some bonds are formed through trust, others through mutual benefit.” At last, Pei Shaohuai added a final word: “At least between you and me, Pei feels there is the possibility of entrusting each other with trust.”
The sea wind billowed into Wang Chu’s wide sleeves, making him look somewhat slight of frame.
In the end, he said: “Wang awaits my Lord’s instructions.”
Only then did he descend the steps.
……
In the days that followed, many seemingly insignificant and incidental “small matters” occurred throughout the various prefectures and counties of southern Fujian. Even as Pei Shaohuai watched the spectacle alongside the common people, he caught the scent of intrigue and conspiracy.
He suspected that the opposing side harbored a resourceful and ruthless strategist — one who was far too skilled at causing deaths and stirring chaos without leaving any visible trace.
Every matter seemed unrelated to the people of Shuang’an Prefecture, unrelated to opening maritime trade. If no preparations were made in advance, by the time the problems truly erupted, it would already be too late to remedy them.
The first incident occurred in Hui’an County of Quanzhou Prefecture.
Hui’an County lay close to the sea, making it easy to draw brine; its beaches were wide and flat, well-suited for constructing solar salt fields. These two features made Hui’an County the largest solar salt production site in the area.
Merchants were commonly seen in the county seat, arriving with salt permits to collect sea salt from the salt fields.
Under Da Qing salt law, merchants exchanged grain for salt permits and collected sea salt in return — this was meant to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. In the hands of the Salt Administration Office under the Fujian Provincial Administration, however, it had been twisted out of shape, turned into a tool of scheming and conspiracy.
It turned out that a Yangzhou merchant holding a salt permit for one hundred dan of sea salt had come to Hui’an County three consecutive years running to collect his sea salt, only to go away empty-handed each time. In a fit of rage, the Yangzhou merchant went to the Quanzhou Prefectural Court to beat the drum and lodge a complaint, accusing the Hui’an salt field.
Prefect Xie sent someone to inquire with the Salt Administration Office, receiving only a four-character reply: “quota not yet filled.”
Meaning the quotas required by the court and military garrisons had not yet been met, leaving no surplus salt to distribute to merchants. The Yangzhou merchant was not the only one waiting in line — all salt merchants were waiting in line. If they wanted to collect salt, they would simply have to wait.
Prefect Xie consoled the Yangzhou merchant: “The quota is paramount; the failure to deliver salt is truly unavoidable. Hui’an has already dispatched additional household laborers to produce salt — you should understand the difficulties of the salt field.”
The Yangzhou merchant left despondently, having no recourse.
This matter subsequently spread through the Yangzhou merchant to the Suzhou-Hangzhou area, where the salt merchants were surely seething with resentment.
The residents of Quanzhou city were still congratulating themselves that “their” city had a salt field, discussing the matter with great relish — but Pei Shaohuai sensed something amiss. The problem of difficulty in collecting salt existed in many places, yet three years without collecting even one hundred dan of salt seemed excessive. Moreover, after satisfying the court’s quota, selling surplus salt yielded enormous profit — someone like Prefect Xie, who was thoroughly corrupt, would never allow Hui’an salt field under Quanzhou Prefecture to remain with an “unfilled quota.” He would certainly pressure them to increase salt production by deploying more laborers.
Upon careful analysis, none of it held logical consistency.
Even if the quota were truly unfilled, to protect the salt field’s reputation, this case should have been handled discreetly — why would he allow the salt merchants to spread the news far and wide?
It was clearly deliberate.
Pei Shaohuai immediately found Yan Chengzhao and asked him to send people to investigate.
Indeed, in addition to the difficulty of collecting salt, the entire allocation of salt permits for this year under the Salt Administration Office had been snapped up by local prominent clans using grain. Anyone wanting a salt permit now had to exchange even more grain for one through these clans.
“Three dan of grain for one permit” had become “six dan of grain for one permit.”
Buying cheap and selling dear.
With merchants’ profits being squeezed ever further, what merchants would still bother to ship grain to southern Fujian to exchange for salt permits?
Pei Shaohuai said to Yan Chengzhao: “Commander Yan, this is an attack aimed at your Jiahe Guard.”
Could this be tolerated?
And this was only the first “small matter.” The local powers are certainly particularly troublesome to deal with, Pei Shaohuai thought to himself.