The three clan elders had arrived deflated; after listening to the Prefect’s words, their confidence rose greatly, and they departed with renewed energy.

They were curious about what resources the Prefect had at his disposal, and curious about how much silver he held in his hands.

That very evening, Pei Shaohuai felt the hour was still reasonably early. After completing his official duties at the yamen, he boarded a horse carriage and made for the ferry crossing, stepped aboard a small sea-crossing vessel, and set out with the sea breeze toward Jiahe Islet.

He needed to discuss an important matter with Commander Yan.

In the Jiahe Garrison barracks: “Commander Yan, following the leads of Xie Jia and Xu Wu — has the mastermind behind it all been identified?” Pei Shaohuai asked.

Xie Jia’s crimes warranted death — setting aside the matter of treason, on the charge alone of colluding with bandits and bringing harm to the common people, he deserved to be executed eight or ten times over.

The reason Xie Jia still sat “safely” in his position as Prefect of Quanzhou, and Xu Wu had not yet been sent to the chopping block, was that Yan Chengzhao wanted to lure the snake from its den and follow the vine to find the melon.

“Not yet determined.” Yan Chengzhao shook his head and said, “Some leads have emerged, but by the time we followed the trail to its source, the building had already been reduced to ashes.” The opposing side was extremely cunning — the moment they sensed the wind turning against them, they immediately destroyed all traces.

The trail went cold in the fire.

Yan Chengzhao continued: “There is something strange about this matter. The Provincial Administration Commission, the Salt Transport Commission, and even the Forward Military Command — all seem to have some involvement, yet on close investigation, there appears to be no single mastermind. The guilt seems scattered across every single person involved.”

All were complicit in the wrongdoing, yet none completely so.

All shared in the profits, and all shared in the guilt.

In past investigations, it had been like following a small tributary upstream until gradually finding the main river — and thus seizing the principal culprit. In the current investigation, it was clear there was a mastermind behind the scenes, yet the trail was like following the main river only to arrive at tributaries; the tributaries spread out in all directions, and the further one investigated, the more dispersed it became.

“Has no one contacted Xie Jia in this period, or the great families of Quanzhou Prefecture?” Pei Shaohuai asked.

“None.” Yan Chengzhao’s answer was assured, and he added, “Unless they possess a method of passing messages that I have never encountered.” He had considerable confidence in the Southern Brocade Guard’s surveillance skills.

Pei Shaohuai thought for a moment, then said, “I would ask Commander Yan to continue keeping his people watching closely — do not give them any opportunity to send word.”

He explained: “Since the snake will not leave its den, let us seal it inside for now and first eliminate the bold rats scurrying freely outside.”

Without a strategist’s messages and schemes passing in and out, the corrupt officials and powerful families of southern Fujian would be far easier to deal with.

Pei Shaohuai suspected that the reclusive clan capable of devising such ruthless stratagems would rather shed a tail to survive than risk exposure.

Yan Chengzhao understood Pei Shaohuai’s intent and replied, “On this matter, please set your mind at ease, Prefect Pei. Even if we must dig three feet into the ground, they shall not escape the Southern Brocade Guard’s network of eyes.”

When it came to matters of great importance, the Brocade Guard Commander was not the sort to drag others back.

“There is another matter I came to discuss with Commander Yan today.” This was the main business of the day. Pei Shaohuai continued, “His Majesty has allocated eight hundred thousand taels of silver for use in our sea-opening venture. I intend to put this silver into circulation — to build the harbor, open the roads, hire workers with it, and use work in place of relief, to bring the entirety of Shuang’an Prefecture back to life.”

“Funds for opening the seas” covered not only construction but also provisions for the troops and horses, so Pei Shaohuai needed to discuss the matter with Yan Chengzhao before touching this sum.

Pei Shaohuai explained his plans in detail.

Yan Chengzhao naturally agreed, but he had a concern: “I naturally understand Prefect Pei’s intention. However, Shuang’an Prefecture has a populace numbering in the hundreds of thousands; if the common folk from the surrounding counties pour in as well, the numbers could swell several times over. I fear this sum of silver may not be sufficient.”

“The moon waxes and wanes in cycles; heaven and earth turn and return to their beginnings — silver is the same principle.” What Pei Shaohuai needed was only to set things in motion. He added, “The silver is a little short, but as long as it can hold out for these two months, it will suffice.”

“As long as you have a plan, I have no objection.”

Matters brooked no delay. That very evening, Yan Chengzhao sent a hundred thousand silver coins ahead to the prefectural yamen; the remainder would be transported and delivered gradually as circumstances developed.

Two or three months had passed, and today was a rare occasion when Pei Shaohuai was in genuinely good spirits. Even in the night hours, he did not forget to exchange a few pleasantries with Yan Chengzhao — by way of gratitude as well. He said, “Pei truly envies Commander Yan — with so many men and such great forces at your command, that you could send a hundred thousand taels over at a moment’s notice.”

In the darkness, Yan Chengzhao’s expression was impossible to see, but by his tone, he was surely wearing his characteristic expressionless “cool composure.” He “retorted”: “Prefect Pei had better envy himself instead — able to command the Commander of the Brocade Guard, who needs ‘many men and great forces’?”

With that, he stepped into the carriage first.

A moment later, he lifted the curtain and asked, “Is Prefect Pei riding back in my carriage again today?”

“When Commander Yan extends an invitation, one can hardly refuse such warm hospitality.” Pei Shaohuai also boarded the carriage — light and nimble of motion, as if it were his own.

A worthwhile trip to Jiahe Islet today, with great gains.

The following day happened to be the Major Heat solar term; early in the morning, a heavy rain fell.

In the pouring rain one knows at last that spring is gone; in the blazing sun that follows, one feels the depth of midsummer.

The lands of southern Fujian, bordering the sea, with great roaring winds — summer rains here always came and went as they pleased, blowing in and blowing out on a whim. The rain pelted down like scattered pearls, and before long the clouds parted to reveal sunlight once more.

In this Major Heat season that suffered so under the scorching heat, the rain washed away the fretful accumulated dust, leaving the moss-covered blue stone pavement and roof tiles clean and bright again, carrying with them a refreshing coolness that seeped into the spirit.

Even the common people who had been living in endless anxiety rekindled a flicker of hope in the midst of this sudden rain.

After the rain, under clear skies — in a day that was otherwise like any other — Head Constable Bao led a few yamen runners to post the notice that the Prefect had personally written in prominent locations: in the busy markets, outside the city gates, and beside the prefectural yamen, all were posted.

The slightly yellowed notice paper bore large, neat characters written with a forceful hand.

At first, the flowing crowd paid no particular attention to the notice — it looked no different from any ordinary announcement. Moreover, official yamen notices had never been known to bring anything good.

It was not until a literate elderly failed scholar staggered past the city gate, so hungry he was on the verge of fainting, that he steadied himself against the city wall, looked up, and saw the four large characters “Official Yamen Hires Workers.” Thinking his hunger had made him see things, he rubbed his eyes and read it again.

It truly was “hires workers” and not “levies conscript labor.”

Having read the entire notice, the elderly scholar could not help himself — he called out “there is a way to survive!” in rapid succession, and immediately drew a crowd of onlookers gathering around.

A melon farmer handed the elderly scholar half a sweet melon, and asked curiously, “Old Scholar Craze, what does this notice say?”

The elderly scholar accepted the piece of melon, took a few bites of it along with a piece of flatbread, and then read the notice aloud on everyone’s behalf. It was written in plain language and was not difficult to understand.

In brief: the Prefect was spending his own funds to hire workers, and a man who completed a full day’s work would receive at minimum thirty coins — not a high wage, but sufficient to keep a family fed.

For those who had spent years earning their meals through physical labor, this was a gift from heaven.

Additionally, the notice recruited cooks, masons, stable hands, stewards, and more — all types of work were represented, which was why as many as five or six copies of the notice had been posted.

And so, the notice that moments ago had stood with no one watching it was, within the time it took a single stick of incense to burn, surrounded by a dense crowd — layer upon layer of people, several rings deep, even more lively than the posting of imperial examination results.

In this manner, word spread: the Shuang’an Prefecture yamen was hiring workers.

Once things were set in motion, Pei Shaohuai was busier than ever before.

Recruiting workers was easy; getting the work underway was hard. Taking people on was easy; managing them was hard. In a grand undertaking of this scale, attention to detail was all the more critical — one lapse in the details, and the whole endeavor would be lost.

Fortunately, Pei Shaohuai had planned meticulously in advance, with each element laid out in orderly sequence, and Commander Yan’s men were “plentiful and formidable,” with a temperament that brooked no argument — the management framework was assembled and standing.

Before, he had merely been returning home late; during this period, Pei Shaohuai often could not get home at all, so Yang Shiyue would carry the meal box herself — holding little Feng’s hand, with little Nan holding the meal box — and arrive daily at the prefectural yamen at noon and at dinner to “visit” Pei Shaohuai.

In the official chamber, documents were piled high on the main desk, so Pei Shaohuai had to take his meals at the tea table. Little Nan and little Feng sat side by side in a grand official’s armchair, swinging their little legs in unison, chins resting in their hands, quietly watching their father eat — and whispering to each other from time to time.

Though their whispers were not quite quiet enough, and were heard in full by Pei Shaohuai.

“Brother, did you notice? Father’s chin has started growing hair.”

“Shh — that’s his beard, not hair.”

Pei Shaohuai had indeed neglected his appearance somewhat in recent days.

“Brother, do you think Father is here every day and doesn’t come home because he’s hiding from us to play something fun on his own?”

“Shall we look around and find out?”

Pei Shaohuai nearly choked trying to hold back his laughter.

The two little ones searched the whole room and came back — the whole place was nothing but documents upon documents, and they found not a single thing. Even the teacup he drank from had been brought from home. Just at that moment, Pei Shaohuai also finished his meal.

He scooped one child up in each arm, settled them on his left and right knees, played with them for a little while, and then began to explain to them in earnest why he had not been able to come home during this stretch of time. Apart from choosing simpler words, he spoke to them exactly as he would to an adult.

Pei Shaohuai said at last, “Father cannot come home, so I must trouble you both to come and see me every day.”

The two little ones listened with an expression of partial understanding. Little Nan said obediently, “I am practicing my characters at home, and helping Mother with things too.”

Little Feng nestled against Pei Shaohuai and tugged at his beard, saying, “Then Father, sleeping here — will you not rest well?”

“As long as you two are good, Father is fine.”

Yang Shiyue said with a smile, “The Official still has the clearer perspective — one must speak plainly to them, to keep them from fussing about you not coming home. Don’t worry that they won’t understand — only worry that you haven’t spoken to them.”

“Shiyue, these days have been hard on you and the children.”

He set little Nan and little Feng down and helped his wife tidy away the meal boxes.

A month later, whether on the eastern seashore harbor and docks or the western commercial roads, work had commenced in an orderly and steady fashion.

Cutting stone from the steep mountains, gathering sand from the shallow rivers, tamping earth along the embankments — work crews were scattered across various locations, seldom crossing paths in the ordinary course of the day, and it seemed as though they had nothing to do with each other. Yet watching the harbor slowly begin to take shape, one understood: though the form was scattered, the spirit was unified — this was a complete, interconnected chain of work.

Hundreds and thousands of workers, their pace efficient yet unhurried.

As silver coins were exchanged for copper cash and placed into the hands of the craftsmen, this money was spent on grain and daily necessities, and the livelihoods of Tong’an City and Nan’an City gradually began to recover.

In the meantime, Old Bao had sent several messages back and forth; one day, Pei Shaohuai finally managed to find a rare moment of leisure and sailed to Ceng Island for a meeting with Wang Chu.

He truly had been unable to spare a free moment these past days.

Carved yellow wine, celadon porcelain wine cups — this time it was Pei Shaohuai who had brought the fine wine.

By chance it was the fifteenth of the month; the full moon rose over the sea, making this lonely little stone pavilion on the isolated island seem all the more small and remote.

“I have been waiting a long time for this drink from you, my lord.” Wang Chu drained his cup in one swallow.

Then he pointed to the vessels moored at the island’s edge and said, “The reward silver collected from Quanzhou Prefecture last time — please take it back, my lord. A cup of water thrown against a burning cart of firewood, a small gesture that may yet help — I hope my lord will not think it too little.” He seemed to wish to contribute his share in this way.

“Wang Island Master need not do this — what was agreed is agreed. Where is the sense in taking back what was a settled condition?”

“You brought wine today, which means you have accepted me, Wang — so let us speak no more of conditions.” Wang Chu said, “What’s more, those Japanese pirate heads were only taken because of the plan you devised, my lord. It was I who claimed the credit for heaven’s work before. That was wrong of me.”

With silver needed at hand, Pei Shaohuai did not decline further.

He did not believe Wang Chu had come today solely to deliver silver and express goodwill.

The current situation was such that before long, the bandits roaming at sea would be left with only scraps to survive on; Xu Wu was doomed to a bad end, while Wang Chu still had a slim chance.

Wang Chu was a man of learning — how could he fail to see so clear a situation?

Sure enough, after a few cups had gone down, Wang Chu recited a verse from “Mooring at Guazhou,” intoning: “…The spring breeze has greened the southern banks of the river again — when will the bright moon light the way for my return? Tell me, Prefect — if the bright moon of the south of the river can light a man home, then tonight’s sea moon, large as a wheel and bright as a pearl — might it light the way for a ship to return? They say the bitter sea has no shore — for those who have strayed into the wrong bitter sea, is there still a shore to moor at?”