The autumn harvest was like a tight band around one’s head — even someone as carefree as Leng Yun could not afford to take it lightly. He had never been strong in administrative affairs, yet this was directly tied to his performance review.
Leng Yun dared not delay any further. He had always had only a vague understanding of agricultural matters like sowing and harvesting, and after being posted to a region whose climate was entirely different from the capital’s, he had to learn everything from scratch. He urgently pressed Advisor Xue: “We need to get back right away!”
Advisor Xue was already packing his luggage. He knew well what kind of person his employer was, and that the autumn harvest would be a critical test. He had been preparing for it even before Leng Yun came urging him to return to Sicheng County. Even if Leng Yun had not sought him out, he would have gone to prod Leng Yun to head back himself.
The two of them had delivered their gifts and dealt with the envoy. Without waiting to rest any further, they readied themselves to leave.
Before departing, Leng Yun gave Zhù Ying one final admonishment: “Stop doing all these good-hearted things! When you were at Dali Temple, you wanted to free the slaves during a house confiscation — and here you are, still at it with the same habits. Even if you want to get things done, don’t go against His Majesty’s will. Have you got that?”
He said this with the full weight of a prefect’s authority.
Zhù Ying said, “The memorial has already been submitted. This was also my first time dealing with eunuchs in this manner — it truly opened my eyes. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“The capital is still the best place!” Leng Yun sighed. “The farther you are from it, the more troublesome things become. Pay close attention to the harvest!”
He grumbled his way out.
An official of his rank could not be allowed to leave empty-handed, so Zhù Ying had also prepared a gift for him — and one for Advisor Xue as well — and then distributed red envelopes to Leng Yun’s attendants, finally seeing the whole party off.
When Leng Yun’s entourage had shrunk to a thin line on the horizon, Zhù Ying turned around and said, “Let us head back as well.”
Her tone was no different from usual. Xiang An quietly glanced at her brother; Xiang Le gave her a slight shake of his head, and the two of them silently fell in behind. Gu Tong, Xiao Wu, and the others had been rushing about busily all these days, and now they all stepped forward with concern: “Magistrate — ” “Teacher — “
Zhù Ying said, “I’m fine.”
Lan De’s reaction had been rather unexpected. After seeing them off, Zhù Ying had turned it over in her mind and come to understand it. Eunuchs had no choice but to do the Emperor’s bidding — was that not plain enough?
She said, “We ought to get back to proper business.”
The party returned to the county yamen. There was no need to consult the almanac — one only had to glance left and right at the fields along the road to see that the autumn harvest was pressing near. The more impatient farmers had likely already begun. Neither spring plowing nor autumn harvest required an official to say “begin” before anyone would start. What officials needed to arrange was the overall coordination — such as the granaries Zhù Ying had prepared in Fulu County — as well as the scheduling of draft animals, water usage, and similar matters. There were also other safeguards to ensure during the harvest season, and what the court cared most deeply about: the land tax.
Fulu County had already established its routines, and everyone was accustomed to them. Even without Zhù Ying’s presence, things there could still run smoothly. It was Sicheng County that had just been thrown into upheaval. Though morale was high, spirit alone could not replace meticulous administration.
Zhù Ying planned to get Sicheng County in order first, keep watch for a few days until she was satisfied nothing would go wrong, and then return to check on Fulu County.
Upon arriving at the county yamen, her first act was to summon all the officials and clerks still in service. Of the former staff remaining in Sicheng County, there was one chief secretary, two granary superintendents, one market officer — and that was all. The chief secretary was a man of much the same temperament as Qi Tai: low in rank, soft in character, and so adept at keeping his head down that he had somehow managed to survive the great purge unscathed. The two granary superintendents had been kept on by Zhù Ying’s own insistence. Considering the autumn harvest, someone with experience was needed for that work, so they remained, laboring under a cloud of guilt. The market officer had only recently taken up his post and had not yet had the time to commit any wrongdoing.
As for the rest, including the constables, most were newly recruited — still green, their characters untested. Zhù Ying had done her best to size them up before making her final selections.
She brought all of them together and said, “Bring them out.”
Tong Li and Tong Bo led several men in, hauling out a number of heavy chests. Zhù Ying said, “Do you all know why you’re able to walk through these doors and draw your pay?”
From below came various answers: “It is by the magistrate’s grace,” “It is because the magistrate saw our worth,” and the like.
Zhù Ying said, “Because your predecessors committed crimes and came to ruin — that is the only reason your turn came around. If you do the same, someone else will be drawing your pay. I know what constables used to earn — it’s not a little, but not exactly comfortable either. Seeing to your livelihoods ought to be the yamen’s responsibility, and from now on, the yamen will take that matter into its own hands.
“Let me be plain from the start: take my money, and then start scheming behind my back — quietly hiking up rent, accepting bribes, extorting people, manipulating lawsuits, engaging in graft and corruption — stretch out your left hand and the left hand gets cut off; stretch out your right and the right gets cut off; come reaching with both and both get cut off together! As for those who shirk their duties and slack off — twenty strokes of the rod and out the door!”
With that, she had the chests opened.
The chests were full of copper coins, gleaming with an enticing light in the golden autumn sun.
Zhù Ying said, “Distribute them.”
She distributed payment to each person according to their rank. The constables smiled as they received their coins. Once the several dozen people had been paid, Zhù Ying said, “The harvest has come — do your jobs well!”
The crowd responded in a single voice.
After distributing to this group, Zhù Ying called forward those who had assisted with the recent investigation. She had already paid their case allowances once before; this second payment was for the work ahead. The harvests in both counties would need to be closely supervised — if a year of hard labor ended in bumper crops that couldn’t be properly gathered, it would be a great embarrassment indeed.
Tong Li, Tong Bo, and the others also received their share, all of them grinning from ear to ear.
Zhù Ying said, “You’ve all worked hard these past months, but I’m afraid there’s still more hard work ahead. Once the harvest is done, I’ll arrange for everyone to have shifts and take some leave in turn.”
“Excellent!”
Zhù Ying dispatched several people with official documents to Fulu County, directing Chief Secretary Guan to stay there and oversee the harvest. She kept Assistant Secretary Mo, along with some of the county school students and a portion of the constables, to work alongside the officials of Sicheng County — so that the newly recruited staff, who had never handled something this large before, would not be left floundering on their own.
She then ordered the officials on duty in Sicheng County to, throughout the harvest period, publicly proclaim throughout the county a reaffirmation of the standard tax rates — abolishing all the extra levies that had been imposed over the years.
With assignments distributed, each person went off to carry out their duties. For those in Sicheng County who had received land, it was as though a great windfall had fallen from the sky — even if that windfall was something they had worked to bring about themselves. For the greater part of the population, it was as if the heavy stone pressing down on their heads had finally been lifted, and they threw themselves wholeheartedly into the harvest.
Zhù Ying finally had a moment to spare for other things. She took out the map of Sicheng County and began to study it. The window between the end of harvest and the next period of business was limited. By custom, late autumn and winter were the seasons for water-works. Spring in the south brought far more rain than in the north, so it was necessary to rearrange the irrigation channels before then.
From what she had seen of Huang Shier’s behavior in Fulu County — where he had diverted other people’s water sources to serve his own fields — things in Sicheng County could only have been worse. Now that the land had been reclaimed and redistributed, the old accounts still lingered: those who had benefited from the favorable arrangements would not willingly give them up, and those who had previously been wronged by Huang Shier would not be willing to keep suffering under new landlords. If she did not use this window, while things were still in her hands, to sort it all out properly, then as soon as spring plowing began next year, there would be bloody brawls over water sources all over again. And such fights could drag on for decades — year after year of farming, year after year of fighting, generation after generation for a hundred years or more — and no one would find that strange.
The matter of planting winter wheat in Sicheng County was placed by Zhù Ying after the task of overhauling the irrigation network.
Qi Tai was finally able to catch his breath. With no outsiders around, Xiang An had gone to help Xiao Jiang and Huajie, and Xiang Le stood silently to one side. Qi Tai stretched his arms and said, “That’s something of a relief. Magistrate, will Sicheng County’s granaries also need to be repaired?”
“Sicheng County’s granaries aren’t a pressing issue for now. We’ve uncovered a great deal of concealed land, but we’ve only submitted a memorial requesting a reduction in taxes — this year won’t see them overflow twice over with grain. Once we remit to the prefecture in a month or two, there’ll be even more capacity. It’ll be in time to repair them then. Since you brought it up, that means you’ve already got some figures in mind — why don’t you work up an estimate for that alongside the irrigation channels!” Zhù Ying said.
Qi Tai choked: “What?” He had to calculate all that himself?
His eyes drifted toward Xiang Le. Xiang Le looked at him in silence. Qi Tai cleared his throat. “Young Xiang…”
Xiang Le said, “Why not take on a couple more apprentices?”
Qi Tai said, “……”
Zhù Ying found this thoroughly amusing.
Qi Tai complained to Zhù Ying, “I had a few county school students I could use, and you’ve sent them all away.”
“Disciples take after their teachers,” Zhù Ying said. “The general atmosphere in Sicheng County wasn’t great before — Fulu County is somewhat better. If you follow good people, you learn good things; if you follow bad ones, you learn bad habits. Let them learn a few good things, and when we’re gone, this place will have something to stand on a little longer — long enough to welcome a practical-minded county magistrate one day and give the people a decent life.”
Qi Tai said, “You’re going to leave?”
Zhù Ying said, “The Council of State asked me to temporarily oversee this place — they didn’t appoint me to a post here. I still have to return to Fulu County.”
“What about the winter wheat?”
Zhù Ying said, “Even Fulu County hasn’t managed to get wheat planted across the whole county! Even if Sicheng County is to plant it, I’ll coordinate the effort — but I’m only managing that one task; the rest doesn’t fall under my authority. Which is exactly why I should take advantage of the fact that I’m still in charge here to make the arrangements now, isn’t it?”
“Things are perfectly fine the way they are,” Qi Tai said with complete sincerity.
Zhù Ying said, “That’s because we have Prefect Leng. In places he can’t watch over, there’s still plenty of wrangling to be had.”
Qi Tai dreaded nothing more than wrangling, and hearing that, his face went pale. “I’ll go work up the figures,” he said.
Both Zhù Ying and Xiang Le let out a couple of laughs. Zhù Ying went on writing her other plans while Xiang Le stood nearby, cleaning his blade. He used a blade too — an ordinary one, far inferior to what Zhù Ying had received from Marquis Zheng’s household — and yet he still took the utmost care of it, always keeping it in excellent condition.
Once the blade was clean, he went to fetch water and refill Zhù Ying’s cup. When she set down her brush and put away her drafts, saying “Let’s go out and take a look,” he picked up his blade and followed silently behind her.
When Zhù Ying said “go out and take a look,” it usually meant a casual stroll nearby. When she said “let’s go look at such-and-such place,” Xiang Le would estimate the distance and prepare horses accordingly. Since Xiang Le had joined them, Cao Chang had more time freed up to tend to the horses. The boy was overly honest and never argued with anyone, and the horses had grown more and more manageable under his care.
Zhù Ying said, “Is Cao Chang still with the horses? Tell him and Hou Wu to come along — let’s all go out for some air.”
Just as they reached the yamen gate, she found Lin Weng and Lin Balang waiting miserably to one side. Seeing her emerge, Lin Weng rushed forward and fell to his knees. “Magistrate! I am too ashamed to face you!”
Zhù Ying said, “Where is your daughter? If you haven’t kept a proper eye on her and have come here yourself, who’s tending your crops? Do not stir up trouble again. There is no one who can save you.”
Lin Weng hurriedly said, “Yes, yes. I’ll take her back right away.”
Zhù Ying glanced at Lin Balang. The boy’s luck had truly been terrible. She said, “Go home. We can talk about whatever needs to be talked about another time.”
Xiang Le stepped forward and blocked Lin Weng’s way. “Please be on your way,” he said. Lin Weng still could not bring himself to leave and called out twice more. Xiang Le said, “Your own family matters — why drag the magistrate into it? Go home quickly. After the commotion just now, if people start to recognize who you are and you’re seen lingering here, it may not be easy for you to get away.”
Lin Weng had no choice. He and his son Lin Balang took Lin Shi and departed together for Fulu County.
Hou Wu waited until Xiang Le had caught up before asking, “Are they gone?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it all, no good deed goes unpunished!” Hou Wu muttered under his breath.
Zhù Ying said, “He’s already gone — don’t let him get under your skin.”
The few of them walked through the streets. With the harvest underway, fewer people were out and about; those who passed had mostly relaxed expressions, though at the sight of her they shifted to a mix of gratitude and apprehension. They were still not quite used to having a county magistrate strolling along the main street. Some folded their hands in greeting or bowed deeply; others made as if to kneel. Zhù Ying said, “If you all carry on like this, I won’t be able to see anything at all.” She asked everyone not to stand on ceremony.
Walking along the main thoroughfare, the faint sound of weeping drifted toward them. Zhù Ying turned a corner, following the sound until she arrived at the former residence of Huang Shier.
Lan De had insisted on tearing down Huang Shier’s old estate, but Zhù Ying had managed to preserve a portion of it and distribute it to the victims whose home plots had been seized. They had been truly unlucky — their homes had been taken simply because their neighbor Huang Shier wanted to expand his property. He had demolished the dwellings of many small households and redesigned them into his own “grand estate.”
Now, the foundations had been restored to their rightful owners, along with whatever buildings he had put up on them. His own main residence, however, had been ordered demolished by Lan De.
The bricks, stones, and timber from the demolition had been claimed by Lan De, who had followed Zhù Ying’s example and intended to use them to build a waste pit. Since he had left in such haste, he had not been able to see it done. The cleared land had been used by Zhù Ying to put up some simple wooden shelters, where the underage orphans and former slaves from the Huang household were being housed.
The weather was still warm enough for people to live there.
Xiang Le stepped forward and knocked on the door. “Who’s inside? San Niang?”
Xiang An opened the door from the inside. “Brother? Magistrate! A’Jie and Jiang Niangzi are both here.”
Zhù Ying walked in. “What happened?”
Xiao Jiang came out from inside, removing her outer robe as she went. “One has died; two more are ill right now — she’s tending to them. Without a father or mother, one wrong move and you’re the one who gets kicked around. Can’t even eat properly, but you’ll be first in line to get beaten. Ah…”
This had not even touched on the times of epidemic illness. With the clear autumn skies, these were only ordinary wounds and sickness. Xiao Jiang had come to conduct the inquest. The coroner in Sicheng County had been taking bribes to write “accidental death” on inquest reports, covering for local bullies — he had been sentenced to penal servitude. Xiao Jiang, along with Cuixiang, had temporarily taken over his duties.
Since Huajie had arrived here, she had no shortage of patients and could not easily get away. Zhù Ying had no choice but to reassign Jiang Zhou back to Fulu County to also look in on Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da. The two of them had been pining after Huajie and kept waiting for her to return. Zhang Xiangu had forced Zhù Da to write out a note in his rough, clumsy hand, telling Zhù Ying not to work Huajie too hard and to bring her home soon.
Huajie was currently taking a patient’s pulse. Lying on the communal sleeping platform was a thin, gaunt little girl. Around her stood several children of varying sizes, some clustered close, some pressed against the wall, all watching with wide, imploring eyes.
Zhù Ying said, “You’re busy — I’ll go have a look next door.”
On the platform in the next room lay a youth — already dead. There had not yet been time to have him moved out.
Xiao Jiang said in a low voice, “He was beaten regularly. The beating he received in spring was especially severe — bones broken. No one took care of him, and he just held on by himself. It looked like he had recovered, but who would have known…” Beside the youth, a young child was crying. He was the youth’s younger brother.
Zhù Ying said, “How did his parents die?”
“Illness.”
Zhù Ying said, “We can’t spare the hands right now. First, let the living get some rest and recover. For the dead, draw from the funds to buy a coffin and have him buried for now. I’ll see to the rest of them once I’ve freed up a little.”
Cuixiang said in a small voice, “I — I can come and look after them! As long as you don’t think it’s too much trouble.”
Zhù Ying nodded, then turned to Xiang An. “You don’t need to keep busy with what you’re doing. Come and measure this whole property for me. If you don’t know how, learn — and give me a count of how many rooms could be built here.”
Xiang An ran over. “Magistrate, what sort of rooms?”
“Have you seen the dormitories at the county school? Something like that. Draw up the figures — how much would it cost to build, and how many people could it house. Hmm… no need for one room per person; three to five people to a room would work, or even seven or eight. There should be a kitchen and a dining hall, and a common room where people can sit and talk. Oh — and separate quarters for men and women. And a head person to be in charge.”
She rattled on casually as the thought occurred to her: “There are places in other areas that take in orphans and abandoned infants. We ought to have one here too.” Such places, generally speaking, either required a conscientious official to run them with dedication, or local gentry of goodwill to sustain them — in both cases, one needed money, leisure, and a degree of decency. Without all of these, it was better not to have them at all; they could far too easily become fronts for human trafficking, and the children inside usually ended up no better off.
The reason Zhù Ying had not made this a priority in either county was simply that funds were tight. Sicheng County had suddenly produced such a large number of orphans from the Huang household’s confiscation that it had become unavoidable.
Among the former young slaves taken from the Huang household, ages ranged from five or six to fourteen or fifteen, and most were old enough to understand what was being said. Those who heard her words lit up with hope on their faces; those who did not understand leaned toward children they knew and whispered questions. Zhù Ying’s ears twitched; she swept her gaze across the cluster of children.
She zeroed in on a plain-looking small boy, who was saying something to a larger, square-faced boy in a language no one else could understand.
As it happened, she understood it. It was a language she had learned but not used in some time — the language of the Liji tribe.
Zhù Ying made a quiet mental note, then moved a few steps closer — not too close — and asked, “Is there enough to eat here?”
When she had been their age, she had spent a great deal of effort every day thinking about how to fill her stomach, and had done no small amount of deceiving and scheming to manage it. Even with parents to look after her, hunger had been a constant companion. A child without parents would be especially prone to it.
The children answered in a jumble, “Better than before.”
“But is it actually enough?”
“It is,” said one child.
Zhù Ying looked them over. Their clothes were shabby but clean, and the sleeping platforms had clean straw mats and a few bedrolls. “The clothing, the bedding…”
Cuixiang quickly said, “We’ve washed and aired everything, and replaced what needed to be replaced.”
“That was my oversight — I arranged for a place to stay but forgot about clothes. When we leave, I’ll open the storeroom and have some cloth taken out — one new outfit each.”
After giving those instructions, Zhù Ying also went to take a look in the kitchen. There were two simple stove holes and two large pots, used for boiling water. The children’s meals were cooked elsewhere and brought over. Xiao Jiang followed her in and said quietly, “Though they’re poor children, some of them have habits that are hard to manage. Slaves from a great household — their temperaments are all over the place. Some were forever getting beaten; others were little ruffians and bullies in the making. Some sneak in at night to steal food; others try to steal rice to take away.”
“Why steal rice to take away?”
“Hoarding savings — it’s what they’re used to doing,” Xiao Jiang said. “And yet how much could they ever save up…?”
Zhù Ying said, “I see…”
The question of what to do with orphans had always been a difficult one. The solution in many places was simply that once they grew up, they would learn some kind of trade — and after that, go do whatever they could. Boys and girls were kept until sixteen and then turned out. In some places, at fourteen, a few of the boys and girls were selected to go into households as servants or apprentices, ostensibly under written employment contracts. In practice, the majority never managed anything more than that for the rest of their lives. The lucky ones were like Older Sister Du — who had happened upon Zhù Ying. Those with special talent or exceptional gifts might find other opportunities.
Xiao Jiang did not rush her, only said, “None of this is urgent — they’re all still young.”
Zhù Ying said, “Mm.”
She then had Xiang An call over the square-faced boy.
The square-faced boy’s appearance was slightly different from the local people. He stood there tensely, his shoulders drawn in, and when he saw Zhù Ying, he knelt at once.
Zhù Ying said, “Don’t be afraid. Has your father died, or is he still up in the mountains?”
The square-faced boy looked terrified. “You — you — you…”
The people nearby, including Xiang An and the others, were equally astonished. Xiang An’s siblings could understand a few simple phrases of the Qixia language, but Liji was another matter entirely — it was more like, “I can tell you’re speaking what sounds like Liji, but I have no idea what you’re actually saying.”
“A Liao slave?” said Xiao Jiang.
Zhù Ying said, “Not entirely surprising.”
If Fulu County could produce “Liao slaves” to exchange with the Asu family, it was hardly likely that Sicheng County would be any different. Huang Shier had a vast estate and countless shadows beneath it. Slaves from other ethnic groups, unable to communicate in the local language, were even more convenient to manage as slaves than those from the same background. Zhù Ying had made arrangements for all the slaves — those who had been forcibly taken from their families were sent home; those whose whole family was present received land allotments. There had been no particular distinction made. But here among the orphans, the difference showed itself.
Zhù Ying spoke patiently to the square-faced boy again, “Do you still have family up there? Would you like to go back? I can let you go.”
The square-faced boy looked somewhat bewildered. “No — no, I — I’ll ask Hammer.”
“Hammer? The little one who was just talking to you?”
“Yes. He’s smart.”
The square-faced boy gradually let down his guard. Going from being worked and beaten at the Huang household to having food, shelter, and proper sleep was always enough to make a child a little less wary. He knew some of the local dialect, though he spoke it poorly. Through conversation, Zhù Ying learned that he, the small child called Hammer, and his parents had all been sold down the mountain by Liji people from above.
Among the Ying tribe, the Asu family and the Suoning family were of the same people, yet they still captured and bled one another’s able-bodied young as sacrifices to the heavens. The Liji tribe was no different in this regard — different clans and villages mutually slaughtered one another’s elderly, offering the heads of old men to the heavens. The difference between them and outsiders was only this: with their own kind, they severed heads; with other peoples, they drew blood.
In the Asu family’s territory, Su Mingluan had come down hard on the practice of selling fellow tribespeople into slavery in the lowlands. No such figure had yet emerged among the Liji, and they continued to hunt and sell members of rival clans.
Zhù Ying chatted with the square-faced boy for a while and discovered that, although the eleven-year-old was nearly grown, he did not seem particularly sharp. His whole family had been sold here three years ago, and he had only learned a little of the local dialect. He spoke highly of his little friend “Hammer,” calling him very clever — Hammer had been sold down the mountain two years ago and had already learned “the language of the lowlands.”
The little friend’s actual name was “Hammer.” His father had apparently been a stonemason who worked with a hammer, and two days before Hammer’s birth, his father had just gotten a fine new hammer and named him accordingly. But Hammer’s father had died just as Hammer was born. Hammer’s mother and Hammer had been sold down together; Hammer’s mother had died soon after, leaving Hammer to be grouped together with the square-faced boy’s family.
The square-faced boy was called “Shitou” — Stone. After coming down the mountain, the Huang household had given its slaves convenient names as suited them, but among themselves they still used their own true names. Shitou’s father and mother had also died one after another: his father had been trampled to death when a horse was startled while he was leading it, and his mother had also “died of illness.”
Zhù Ying listened to him speak for a while, then reached into her pouch and produced a few pieces of candy for him. “Tell it at your own pace.”
Shitou had lived in the mountains for a good number of years and remembered some details. From his account, Zhù Ying gathered that Shitou’s family had not been of any standing within the Liji tribe either — they had lived at the edge of the village and had no close ties with the clan leader. From his description, the Liji tribe appeared to be at roughly the same level of development as the Qixia tribe had been — though of course the Asu family had grown considerably stronger since.
Beyond that, a child like Shitou could not tell her any more.
At eleven, there were many things he should have been aware of — but from his responses, it was clear he truly did not know.
Zhù Ying then had “Hammer” brought forward.
The small child known as Hammer was said to be six years old, though he looked younger than expected. He wore clothes full of patches and walked in grass sandals. Zhù Ying said, “You’re Hammer?”
Hammer could not hide his surprise. “Ma — Magistrate? You understand?”
Shitou grinned. “Yeah, Hammer, you were right — the magistrate really is better than all those people before!”
Zhù Ying saw on Hammer’s face an emotion she recognized. Hammer said quietly, “Mm.”
He was working very hard to keep his eyes still, but those eyes had a sharpness that was entirely out of place on such an unremarkable little face — bright and alert, not darting and restless. He looked far more quick-witted than any child his age had any right to be. He could speak the Sicheng County dialect as naturally as a child who had grown up in the lowlands all his life.
Zhù Ying found talking to Hammer considerably easier than talking to Shitou. She asked him the same questions about his parents, then: “Do you still have family up in the mountains? Would you like to go back?”
Hammer looked at her warily for a moment, then shook his head. “No one left.”
Zhù Ying exhaled slowly. She had been hoping that through these few Liji children, she might establish a more positive connection with the Liji tribe. But as it turned out…
She felt no disappointment. She gave Hammer a piece of candy as well, and asked him, “You two are good friends?”
Hammer smiled a little. “Pretty good.”
Zhù Ying said, “You’ll both stay here for now.”
Shitou tugged at the back of Hammer’s shirt. Zhù Ying asked, “Did you have something to say?”
Shitou shook his head with an endearing simplicity. Zhù Ying gave them each a few more pieces of candy and said, “Go back and talk it over. If you want to go back, tell me. If you’d rather stay, stay here.”
She sent them on their way and then had a new thought. She turned to Xiang An: “Go and look into this — among Huang’s farmhands and slaves, are there any Liji people? I need someone who can make themselves understood.”
Xiang An said, “Yes.”
Zhù Ying went back to see Huajie. Huajie had just finished her consultations and was washing her hands. She said, “I’ll have a few doses of medicine prepared first and see how they respond. My only fear is that if the fever doesn’t come down, whoever survives might end up with brain damage.”
Zhù Ying said, “Do you need any special medicines? I confiscated a supply — I’ve left all of it for your use.”
Huajie said, “Nothing costly is needed — the right medicine for the right illness is all that matters…”
Both fell silent and stepped together into the adjoining room, where a commotion had broken out. They arrived to find the children fighting. Earlier, Zhù Ying had given the two boys a little candy, and when they brought it back, Shitou — unable to help himself — had eaten one more piece and been caught; now someone was trying to snatch the rest of his candy. Shitou was not small and had considerable strength, and he shoved several children away — but two fists are no match for four hands. Hammer was quick-witted but too young; there was little he could do except dart about the room, jumping up onto the sleeping platform to drop from above onto a bigger child’s back and pummel him wildly for a moment, then jumping down and trying to pull Shitou toward the courtyard. “Quick, run to the courtyard!”
They were outnumbered and soon cornered against the wall. As they were beaten, the others taunted them: “Filthy Liao rats!”
Hou Wu limped forward, one leg dragging. “Well now! Picking on someone smaller! All of you — back off! Come at me one at a time if you’ve got the nerve!” He scooped the surrounding children up like digging potatoes out of the ground, one by one, flinging them aside. He set Hammer upright, then hauled Shitou up off the floor. Shitou stared miserably at the candy that had fallen to the ground and gotten dirty, and tears spilled down his face.
Hammer stood there in silence, saying nothing.
Huajie, who rarely showed anger, was visibly upset: “Did I not tell all of you not to bully them? And you are not to call them ‘Liao rats’ either — they’ve done nothing to you.”
Zhù Ying looked the two boys over and said, “You two, come with me.”
She brought them back to the county yamen to stay for a couple of days. Children fought as children did — it all came down to who had the bigger fists. At this point, forcing the other children to accept the “Liao rats” would likely accomplish nothing; obedience to one’s face while bullying behind one’s back was entirely predictable. Even in Fulu County, the two groups had so far only shifted from “open contempt” to “a somewhat more civil manner.” They were still a very long way from anything resembling genuine goodwill.
Zhù Ying understood all too well the cruelty that children were capable of. The same ones who were sweet and innocent were the very same ones who bullied the slower children among them.
The two boys were brought to the county yamen, handed over to Huajie to be cleaned up, and found a couple of mended but presentable old outfits to change into. Then they were settled in Hou Wu’s room to sleep alongside him and the others. Zhù Ying waited for Xiang An to come back with the results of the investigation.
Xiang An spent half the day on it and returned with a copied list. “Everyone with a traceable background is on here.”
If Huang Shier’s records had noted “purchased Liao slave on such-and-such date from such-and-such person, so many males, so many females,” that counted as traceable. If there was no such notation — just a name assigned on a whim — there was no way to prove anything.
Zhù Ying said, “That doesn’t add up. When they came to receive their land allotments, weren’t there some who could speak up?”
Xiang An said, “When they registered, households were recorded as households.”
Young men and women of working age had always been in demand, because they could be paired up and set to building families and producing offspring. If a woman had been sold and trafficked, she would be matched to a farmhand — another way of binding men’s loyalty. Such a woman received a land allotment in her own name when land was distributed, but could not be separated from her “household,” and so it was generally the husband who came forward and received the land.
Some Liji men, who could register themselves as “head of household,” had records of their own. Having spent many years in the lowlands and having acquired land, most had no desire to return to the mountains, and naturally had no reason to go to Zhù Ying with their grievances. Had Zhù Ying had land to distribute when she first handled matters in Fulu County, she might have kept more of those from the mountains.
Zhù Ying slowly looked over the list. These were all recorded simply as “Liao slave,” with no way to distinguish one group from another. She said, “Go again, and ask them what tribe and clan they belong to.”
Xiang Le said, “Yes.”
Hou Wu could not keep his mouth shut: “The magistrate is at it again! The court will certainly record this as another great achievement!”
Zhù Ying looked at him and thought to herself: That’s still a long way off. As long as the Emperor doesn’t find fault with the Huang Shier case — if the memorial I submitted can just be approved, I’ll be counting my blessings.
As she had anticipated, while Zhù Ying and Leng Yun were occupied with the autumn harvest in the two counties, Lan De and Jiang Zhi were making their way back to the capital as quickly as they could.
Lan De was still dragging along a string of prisoners — including former Magistrate Qiu and the others — as well as three children he had stubbornly insisted on taking. Along the way, the children no longer had wet nurses, maids, or serving women to attend them; for eating and dressing, they were on their own. Life in the Huang household in Sicheng County had been first-rate — without the rarities that flowed in from every corner of the empire as in the capital, it had still been the best the region had to offer: food that was soft, warm, and freshly prepared. Before, they had people chasing after them with hot meals; now a bowl was slung at them and they could eat it or leave it — if they didn’t eat, they went hungry, and if they cried from hunger, they got beaten.
The others traveling with them were either like Lan De or like the former Magistrate Qiu — none of them had the least interest in looking after children. Occasionally one might take pity on the little ones and offer a warm meal or some hot water to wash their faces.
Lan De also complained that the children slowed him down. Looking at the young boy, who could not even manage to use the chamber pot on his own and still had to call for someone to wipe him, Lan De barely stopped himself from giving the child another beating.
Jiang Zhi said, “Don’t take your temper out on children.”
Lan De said, “If I’d known it would come to this, I’d have sold them off locally.”
Jiang Zhi had the prison warden find a woman to clean up and look after the three children, and said to Lan De, “If that’s how you feel, we should step up our pace, reach the capital sooner, and hand them over.” He was beginning to regret not having argued harder at the time. The way Lan De treated these small children was rather hard to stomach.
The two of them quickened their pace further. The former Magistrate Qiu was still holding up, but on the third day the children fell ill. Jiang Zhi ordered them placed on Qiu’s prison cart and pressed on. Falling ill on the road was a serious matter, and the physicians of the capital were more reliable.
Lan De cursed them many times over: “Wretched little prisoners, harbingers of misfortune — dragging down my return to the capital.” Jiang Zhi calculated the days and said, “Since you’re in such a hurry, you might as well write a memorial now and send it ahead to the capital by courier.”
Lan De laughed. “Excellent idea!”
Because of these delays, the memorials from Zhù Ying and Leng Yun, sent by relay post on fast horses, arrived in the capital several days ahead of them. The Council of State read through the thick stack of memorials, and both Wang Yunhe and Shi Kun nodded repeatedly. They had long been exasperated by memorials that rambled on for thousands of words without making a single clear point, and sifting through them was a headache in itself. Zhù Ying’s memorials were long but clear, with no wasted words.
Even the lists of people she recommended for commendation were precise: “A number of county school students — such-and-such names — completed the survey of so many acres of land and so many households in such-and-such number of days.”
Not like certain other officials who wrote: “So-and-so has rendered meritorious service and deserves a generous reward.” What service? Not specified.
As prime ministers, both men had at various times been driven to distraction by memorials of the latter sort. That the court still harbored officials like that was enough to make any prime minister want to strike someone.
When Zhù Ying requested commendations for her subordinates, she did not ask for substantive posts — only the lowest grade of honorary titles, and she asked with considerable humility. Both prime ministers had already granted it in their hearts.
Her case findings were written clearly and logically, the judgments watertight. When they read Leng Yun’s memorial, it was obvious at a glance that he had not written it himself — only transcribed it. But it was tolerably clear nonetheless, and he had not made any move to claim his subordinate’s credit; he only mentioned in passing that he had “exercised discretionary authority” in directing Zhù Ying to handle the case.
Wang Yunhe wrote a summary note and tucked it in, so that the Emperor could read the key points if he grew impatient with the full text.
The Emperor read the summary note and then, with considerable thoroughness, read through the entire memorial once, and the sections that concerned him most a second time. When he reached Zhù Ying’s words that “the imperial envoy’s arrival moved all the people to feel the deep grace of the Sage Emperor,” he smiled and nodded. At the passage describing how Huang Shier had been dealt with, he slapped the table and burst out laughing: “Ha ha ha ha ha! What kind of mind thinks of something like that! No wonder Duan… was driven to send an assassin after her!”
He then read Zhù Ying’s account of Lin Shi’s formal petition for dissolution of marriage. She had written that “Huang was by nature arrogant and domineering” — which made perfect sense, given that such a traitor would naturally have had no respect for his father-in-law either.
On the matter of Huang Shier’s three children, all under seven, the law provided no grounds for severe punishment. The “imperial envoy” had considered it tantamount to treason and felt there ought to be some penalty. Zhù Ying herself had considered the matter genuinely ambiguous, and after deliberation, she had followed the envoy’s view: given how exceptionally egregious Huang Shier’s crimes had been, the children had been taken into official custody.
The Emperor thought: Lan De is loyal to me.
He then read Zhù Ying’s requests for commendations and laughed again. “The ninth and lowest honorary rank? This counts as requesting commendation?”
He read through the rest — the follow-up measures Zhù Ying had described — without a second reading, though he dragged his thumbnail along the margin next to the line about uncovering concealed land and hidden households, gave a nod of approval.
He read Leng Yun’s memorial, which said much the same as Zhù Ying’s, and laughed again. “He’s improved. His maternal grandmother was right — a child needs to go out and see something of the world before he can grow up.”
By the time he had finished reading both memorials twice, Lan De and Jiang Zhi’s memorials had only just arrived. Jiang Zhi’s memorial was conventional and measured — he recorded what he had seen and heard, with a brief mention of Zhù Ying’s attentiveness to the needs of the people, praising her diligence and practicality, and noting that he himself had come away having learned something.
Lan De’s writing was considerably worse. He could read and write, but his characters were somewhat careless, and the content itself was disorganized. His account leaned heavily toward flattering himself, while also going to considerable lengths to portray Huang Shier’s three children as truly detestable — pampered and accustomed to having people wait on them, they had continued trying to command servants even on the road, which showed plainly that they were the malevolent offspring of someone who had tyrannized the people and deserved strict punishment. He then added a note that the three of them had initially all opposed any punishment — Zhù Ying most of all, going on about the children being young — but that he himself had held firm! “Officials who have only their books know nothing of common sense,” Lan De wrote in his memorial, “all they do is go by the rules and make things difficult for everyone.”
Lan De’s memorial did not pass through the Council of State, so Wang Yunhe never saw it.
The Emperor read it and frowned slightly. He did not rush to approve Zhù Ying and Leng Yun’s memorials, choosing instead to wait until Lan De and Jiang Zhi had returned to the capital and report in person before granting an audience to hear their accounts directly.
With Jiang Zhi present, Lan De could not very well claim credit for Zhù Ying’s actions as his own. He grudgingly raised the one thing he had been brooding about — “he just went and had that building torn down” — and presented Huang Shier’s head. Then he recounted once more his dispute with the other three: “Jiang Zhi here also felt sorry for those children, isn’t that right? Zhù Ying had all kinds of reasoning — something about not yet being seven, this and that. As your servant sees it, if traitorous scoundrels can live just like law-abiding people, who would ever bother being obedient?”
Jiang Zhi thought to himself: You wretched eunuch — just to torment people and show off, you’ve started giving lectures on principles?
The Emperor asked, “Jiang Zhi, is that how it was?”
Jiang Zhi also cited the law in reply: “They were indeed under seven.”
The Emperor waved his hand. “You’re all too rigid.”
Lan De said, “Exactly.”
Lan Xing suddenly widened his eyes slightly and glanced at Lan De. Lan De fell silent at once. Lan Xing stepped quietly forward and exchanged the Emperor’s teacup for a fresh hot one. The Emperor said, “They’re just too particular about everything — that’s why they’re so unsympathetic.”
Lan Xing said, “When they are considerate, they can be rather pleasing.”
The Emperor said, “What a pity that doesn’t happen very often.” He waved his hand, dismissing Lan De and Jiang Zhi.
The Emperor took up his brush and approved the memorials of Zhù Ying and Leng Yun. He granted official titles to only a small number of the people named, but agreed to the monetary rewards, approving a disbursement of cash and silk.
When the autumn harvest had ended and half the land taxes had been collected, the Emperor’s approvals and the reward schedules arrived.
By then Zhù Ying had already returned to Fulu County, where Zhang Xiangu had seized hold of her and was dosing her with nourishing soups every day.
The arrival of the imperial decree saved her. She rushed off to receive the various directives, along with the official appointment papers for several people that had come through the Ministry of Personnel. Among the rewards the Emperor had approved were cash and bolts of cloth. Newly minted bronze coins, threaded on bright red cords, were stacked in tidy rows.
While entertaining the imperial messenger, Zhù Ying had people go and gather everyone on the list so that the news could be announced to them.
She was already calculating in her mind: The ninth-rank official’s outfit will need to be prepared as well — I might as well have them all made together.
Those who received the summons arrived at the county yamen, sensing somehow what might be coming, and struggling to contain their excitement. When they heard confirmed that they had indeed been rewarded, they all broke into cheers. Zhù Ying called three times for quiet before they settled down.
Suppressing their smiles, they faced the direction of the capital and performed the full kowtow of thanks, then rose. Zhù Ying began distributing their appointment papers and reward money.
Xiang Le and Xiang An exchanged a glance: the things they had done were more than enough to warrant official appointments, but what about their magistrate? She had worked the hardest of all and accomplished the most — how was it that there was no reward for her?