The stonemason knelt in the main hall, heart beating uneasily.
From the time of his conviction to now, he had come to understand something of how officials typically handled things. For instance, a good beating the moment you arrived.
The “welcoming beating” started at twenty strokes and had no upper limit for officials with a hard heart—forty, eighty, whatever they chose, and there were even cases of people being beaten to death. An official bore no obligation to guarantee the long life of every convict sent to “miasma-land.” Reporting “death from adverse climate” or “attempted escape” were both accepted as legitimate causes of death.
Zhù Ying studied the stonemason. His file listed him as forty years old. He already had white in his hair, a scraggly and unkempt beard, wearing short laborer’s clothes, bare feet in dirty hemp sandals. The stonemason’s arms were thicker than most, his hands somewhat oversized, his whole person covered in gray dust.
She had already read his file. The stonemason had been sentenced to exile for killing his younger brother and his nephew. His status as elder brother and paternal uncle gave him the advantage in standing, which was why he hadn’t been sentenced to death. The reason for the killing was written rather vaguely in the file—simply “discord”—with no further detail on what the discord involved, and the stonemason had not been willing to elaborate. The facts were clear enough, so the sentence had been passed.
Zhù Ying said: “Your son has come with you?”
The stonemason’s heart lurched. He said hastily: “My son did not kill anyone!”
“Hmm? A confession without being pressed?”
“No, no, no—it really was all this humble man’s doing, and nothing to do with my son!”
The stonemason was not a man of words; he could only repeat, again and again, that everything had been done by him alone and had nothing to do with his son. The yamen runners were getting restless, itching to give someone a beating.
Zhù Ying waved them down; the runners quieted. She did not bring up what the stonemason had done, and showed no intention of having him beaten first. Instead she asked what skills he had. The stonemason said: “Any work on stone—I can do it!”
Zhù Ying asked: “Can you carve steles?”
The stonemason said: “That’s actually the easier part of the work. As long as there’s a draft, it becomes straightforward.”
“Explain in detail.”
Zhù Ying could turn her hand to many things—wood carving, for instance, and even constructing a rough field shelter, or patching a roof—but none of that involved fighting with stone. Any task requiring great physical strength she had never much done. She could carve a small personal seal, but the stonemason’s kind of work was quite beyond her experience.
The stonemason said: “The first thing is selecting good stone…”
Stone was everywhere, but stone suitable for carving steles required some care in selection. A stele would be exposed to sun and rain over the years—that had to be accounted for. The stone could not be brittle; otherwise it would crack easily under the tools. If a stele was required, sizable pieces of stone were needed…
Once he started talking about his craft, he became far more forthcoming than he had been when discussing his crime. Zhù Ying asked about the timeline: “I need sixteen short songs carved, one stele per song, around a hundred characters each. How long would that take?”
“Depends on the workmanship. Skilled hands work fast; beginners work slowly and poorly. If you want it fine, it takes more effort. Rushed and careless, it’s quick. Cutting the characters deep takes more time; shallow, surface scratches are fast. Large or very small characters are both harder—mid-sized is easiest.”
Zhù Ying held up her fist and asked: “Characters this size.”
The stonemason glanced at her fist and said: “That’ll do.”
Zhù Ying said: “Good. I have a task ready to assign you.”
Fulu County had a quarry. In a hilly region, stone was plentiful enough. The difficulty was that Fulu County had a lot of rough terrain and the roads were not easy to travel. Zhù Ying told the stonemason: “Tomorrow you’ll come with me to take a look. The steles don’t need to be very large.” Her plan was one stele per song, which also made transport easier.
The stonemason would begin work first, setting up a model stele in the county town. After spring planting was over, the county’s own stonemasons would be free, and they could be conscripted for their year’s labor service to carve the steles.
The stonemason said: “Yes.”
Zhù Ying asked: “Does your son have your craft?”
The stonemason, not yet steady on his feet, knelt down again: “Your Excellency, the case this humble man is charged with has nothing to do with my son!”
Zhù Ying said nothing more and waved for him to be taken away. This was not normally something Xiao Wu would bother with directly, but he inserted himself anyway and walked along with the stonemason, chatting. From just a moment ago, he had caught that the stonemason was from the north—not from the capital region, but not far from it either.
Far from home, the sound of a familiar accent was warm. And Xiao Wu was not like Zhù Ying, sitting in authority over the stonemason’s life and death—he walked alongside him cheerfully and said: “Things will be fine here! Our magistrate is the most even-handed person there is. As long as you don’t cause trouble from here on out, do your duty, and behave yourself, you won’t be mistreated. She’s perceptive too—if you have any grievances, you can go to her to plead your case, and she’ll see justice done.”
As he spoke, he dug into his pouch and produced a strip of betel nut to give the stonemason: “Have some.”
The stonemason accepted it, not quite sure how to eat it, and bowed his head in silence, looking as though something was weighing on him.
Xiao Wu gave the escorting runner a look, and led the stonemason to the jail alone. On the way he continued: “The old garrison compound is run-down—you’ll stay here for now. Once spring planting is finished, they’ll fix that place up. When it’s ready, you and your son can live there together. This here is the jail, so it wouldn’t be right to bring your young master in to stay with you…”
He noticed that any mention of “son” made the stonemason tense up, and he used it to probe. But the stonemason kept his mouth firmly shut, and said nothing even after settling into the jail.
Xiao Wu thought: I can handle you yet.
Coming from a family of low-ranking officials through several generations, he had not disappointed that heritage. Just before leaving, he leaned against the jail door and let out a sigh: “Ah, Stonemason Pang—does your son speak the local dialect? People in Fulu County don’t understand the official tongue, let alone other regional dialects.”
Stonemason Pang had been locked into the jail himself and didn’t know that Zhù Ying had already sent people to put his son and the others in temporary lodgings at the temple. He panicked at once, repeating: “What can be done? What can be done?”
Xiao Wu shrugged and turned to leave. Stonemason Pang took a quick step and grabbed his sleeve, startling Xiao Wu, who hopped several times in place: “Auntie’s ghost! What are you doing?!”
Stonemason Pang knelt down: “Good sir, have mercy—please help me find my son!”
Xiao Wu said: “That’s a strange request. He hasn’t committed any crime—why would I go looking for him? Our magistrate has always been fair and by the law. We don’t do things without cause here—don’t wrongfully accuse me.”
“I’m not—I just…”
Xiao Wu kept an impatient expression on his face, but his feet didn’t quite move. Pressed, Stonemason Pang finally let out a bit of the truth: “My child is a good child. I am the one who failed—weak and useless—and I can’t let him keep suffering for my mistakes.”
Xiao Wu turned and walked away. Stonemason Pang followed a couple of steps, then was stopped by a very irritable jailer: “What do you think you’re doing, old wretch?!”
Stonemason Pang ignored the jailer. Tears slipped down his face: “Good sir—the person I killed…”
The jailer’s colleagues had been beaten for gambling and couldn’t report for duty, so he was visibly stuck covering extra shifts and was thoroughly unpleasant: “Of course you killed someone—otherwise why would you be here? So much nonsense!”
Stonemason Pang couldn’t understand the jailer’s dialect.
He could only tell the man was displeased. Remembering what Xiao Wu had said about his son not speaking the language, he grew even more frantic, and said again: “Good sir—it has nothing to do with my son. The person I killed…”
Xiao Wu gave up. How could someone be so slow to catch on? He walked away in frustration, and once out of the male ward he let his eyes dart about—then ran to find Hou Wu and explained the situation.
Hou Wu said: “You little schemer—your entire talent is spent guessing at your superior’s mind!”
“Jealous? You’ll never manage it—it’s a gift!” Xiao Wu said smugly.
“Pfft! Showing off! Makes people want to hate you!”
“I only say this because I know you’re not that kind of person, Hou old uncle. What do you say—help me with this? I’ll buy you a drink. I figure the magistrate must want to know the background of the people she’s using. Men sentenced to exile are all carrying something weighty. If any of them has old habits that don’t change…”
Hou Wu said: “Fine.”
He went to replace Xiao Wu in the male ward.
Fulu County’s male ward was less strict than the Court of Judicial Review’s, and Hou Wu counted as one of the county office’s own. The jailer let him in. Hou Wu spoke to the stonemason without ceremony: “You really love your son that much? He walked three thousand li with you, and you—a convict—expect people to just believe he’s a good child based on your say-so? Do you have that kind of standing?”
Stonemason Pang wept miserably.
Hou Wu said: “Alright, alright, don’t cry. What’s really going on?”
Stonemason Pang said: “It was all my fault…”
“Oh, so you’re being dramatic now, are you? Can’t you say anything different?”
Stonemason Pang went quiet. Hou Wu also walked away. He went back and told Xiao Wu: “Getting ahead of the magistrate’s thinking isn’t as easy as all that! A few convicts—nothing to be afraid of. We just keep a close eye on them.”
Xiao Wu felt deflated.
That evening at dinner, he was eating with Cao Chang, who said: “Xiao Wu, tomorrow morning please cover for me—I have something to take care of.” Hou Wu asked with interest: “What is it?” Cao Chang said: “We should bring along Stonemason Pang’s son too—he can work.”
Xiao Wu and Hou Wu were both astonished: “What?! How do you know about that?”
“The magistrate had Aunt Du go to the temple…”
Xiao Wu was indeed a quick-witted person—his concern had not been unfounded. It was unwise to be too complacent when one was handling a number of convicts. Zhù Ying herself had no fear, but there were still her parents and family, and the entire county to think of. She had first put the convicts’ family members at the temple, and then sent a female servant to go there on the pretext of “fulfilling a vow,” to strike up conversations with the family members staying at the temple.
Aunt Du was a capital native and spoke the official tongue perfectly well. She was able not only to draw out information from Stonemason Pang’s son, but also to pick up a few details from the veterinarian’s wife. She had trouble reproducing it word for word, but she could relay the general meaning well enough.
According to Aunt Du’s report, Stonemason Pang’s son had come along of his own free will.
Hou Wu said: “Isn’t that obvious? He hadn’t broken any law—who could force him to come?”
Cao Chang said: “That’s different. His father did it for him, too.”
“How do you mean?” Xiao Wu asked.
“You’d have to go back to his grandfather and grandmother. They played favorites—they treated the eldest son’s family like beasts of burden, taking what the eldest son earned and subsidizing the younger son. The eldest son’s family did all the work; the food and drink all went to the younger son’s family. If the eldest son was tight on money and couldn’t pay up, the grandparents would curse the whole family for being unfilial and wish death upon them. While Stonemason Pang went out to work and earn money, his wife did all the work at home. The younger son’s wife never even washed a bowl; the elder son’s wife had to split the firewood. She was worked to death.”
“Oh no.” Xiao Wu and Hou Wu both made sounds of dismay.
“The plan had been to endure until the parents died, and that would be that. But then the old ones’ minds started to go, and right before they died they forced the eldest son to swear an oath—after their deaths, he had to go on providing for his brother exactly as he had when they were alive.”
Hou Wu said: “And serves them right.”
Cao Chang sighed: “How could they bring themselves to do it?”
Hou Wu gave a cold sneer: “What—no feeble-minded old folks like that in your village?”
“Well… there are some. Once the old ones died, the two sons’ families would be at each other’s throats right away.”
Xiao Wu said: “What terrible favoritism. Both children are flesh and blood. If that younger one was spoiled rotten, and then the parents are gone and he still doesn’t know how to manage—he’s going to suffer for it.”
“True enough. Once the parents died, the younger son went after the family assets—the house the older brother had built, he wanted it. The money the older brother had earned, he wanted that too. Had his brother’s family pack up and move out. Stonemason Pang actually did move out. Father and son rented themselves a room to live in. His son thought—fine, from now on they owe each other nothing. But then the younger brother turned up at the door again with his own son, demanding money! Saying—the parents had agreed ‘to go on as when they were alive,’ and even if his brother died, his nephew couldn’t stop supporting them.”
Xiao Wu and Hou Wu both let out loud exclamations. Hou Wu said: “Look at that! So he died because of it? I just wonder—why was this so hard to talk about?”
Cao Chang said: “He didn’t want to speak ill of his parents.”
Xiao Wu said: “That’s not right either! His wife was worked to death over all those years. He suddenly decided to care about his son after all that? Something doesn’t add up.”
Cao Chang said: “Young Pang the stonemason had hidden himself away. His father had lost his wife and children—that’s when he snapped.”
Xiao Wu, his curiosity satisfied, said magnanimously to Cao Chang: “Some days I’m also on duty! You just go ahead and bring the man—I’ll make do. What a hard life for young Pang though. What a shame.”
——
“What a shame…” Zhang Xiangu also clicked her tongue in sympathy.
Aunt Du said: “You’re telling me.”
They were just talking in the rear quarters—of everyone, those two had the least to do. While others were busy with spring planting, they were puttering about. Zhang Xiangu had bought some coarse local cloth from the market and was sewing short clothes and small pouches with Aunt Du—short clothes were more practical to wear around the house. Zhang Xiangu also needed to make Zhù Ying a new pair of shoes, and if she didn’t keep her hands busy she’d feel restless.
Aunt Du had claimed the task of layering the shoe soles; Zhang Xiangu was sewing a small pouch to hold Zhù Ying’s portable brush set.
Zhù Ying herself never did this kind of work. With one hand she held a blade, slowly carving the head of a hairpin.
Zhang Xiangu asked Zhù Ying: “Couldn’t you reduce the sentence a little for people like that? It’s too pitiful. When could they ever go home?”
Zhù Ying said casually: “They won’t be staying here forever. They need to finish the work I have for them first—then they can go back.”
Zhang Xiangu asked happily: “You’re going to help him get his conviction overturned?”
“He killed someone himself and admitted to it. From the local court to the review at the Court of Judicial Review, the facts are all clear—there’s nothing to overturn.”
Zhang Xiangu said: “Then how are you saying he can go home?”
Zhù Ying said carelessly: “He works for me, distinguishes himself—wouldn’t that do it?”
Zhang Xiangu was taken in by this and smiled: “Not bad!”
Zhù Ying said: “Mother, don’t look at every convict and say they’re pitiful.”
“Understood.”
“What I mean is—what if they’re making it up? What if he really killed his brother and nephew to seize the family property? Cases like that happen too.”
Zhang Xiangu said: “Your mother has lived this long and knows when someone’s trying to fool her.”
Zhù Ying said: “Then tell me—is young Pang’s story true or false?”
Zhang Xiangu was stumped. Hua Jie came in carrying a small dish of preserved fruits and also produced a packet of her own hawthorn digestive pills: “Have some—good for digestion.” Which neatly sidestepped the topic.
The moment she arrived, Zhù Ying stood up and went back to her room to work. Zhang Xiangu said: “Look at this child!”
Hua Jie said: “Let me go check on her.”
There were things Zhù Ying couldn’t say to her parents that she would say to Hua Jie. Hua Jie also understood her well. Coming in, she asked at once: “Are you thinking about something again?”
Zhù Ying said: “Time is pressing.”
“Yes—spring planting is all about timing.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“If it isn’t a wrongful conviction, an ordinary convict has no easy path back to the capital—but there are opportunities. A general pardon. Either the Crown Prince has a son, or the Crown Prince takes the throne—both occasions would call for a pardon. The first case is manageable. But if it’s the latter, the variables become enormous! I need to get more things done before that happens.”
And so she was very busy.
Hua Jie said: “The literacy steles are being carved too. Spring planting is going smoothly. I went out of the city to look when you were in West Township.” Having managed a household before, she could see a great many things clearly. Under Zhù Ying’s management, Fulu County had improved not only in spring planting but in its general order. Her old home in Zhù Village was also a place county magistrates would not ordinarily bother to govern—rather like Magistrate Wang’s style of hands-off rule.
Zhù Ying was different.
Hua Jie felt a quiet pride and said: “You’re better than all of them.”
Zhù Ying said: “And you?”
The imperial court imposed constraints not only on officials but on their family members as well. Officials were not permitted to conduct commerce themselves, serve as brokers, or freely acquire property in their assigned localities. Zhù Ying could arrange a three-room shopfront for Hua Jie’s medicine shop, but Hua Jie could not operate it under her own name.
Hua Jie said: “I’ve spoken with the abbess at the temple—on the first and fifteenth of each month, I’ll go there to treat patients, as a charitable act.”
“Clearly you…”
“This is fine for me.” Hua Jie said. “I just thought of something. Right now there’s no time to run a proper medicine shop. But—Dry Father and Dry Mother fell ill last summer as soon as they went out. Summer is coming again, and I’ve been thinking about preparing some heat-relief medicine for them. If it works well, it won’t just benefit Dry Father and Dry Mother—anyone who suffers from the local climate could benefit.”
Zhù Ying said: “Good. If you run into any difficulty, tell me—we’ll figure it out together.”
“All right.” Hua Jie thought inwardly: you’re so busy right now—I can’t keep adding to your burdens. She also worried: the emperor’s years were advancing. If something untoward happened… what would they do then?
——
Zhù Ying had been thinking about this for some time already.
The next day, she brought Stonemason Pang and his son along and set out at first light for the quarry. The quarry was some distance from the county town—half a day’s journey. Because of spring planting, many of the quarry workers were away. The quarry had once had a major source of labor—convicts—but Fulu County had gone a long time without a suitable batch arriving, and so now it was quiet.
The county as a whole did not regard the quarry as a significant source of revenue: it was labor-intensive, and the market for stone was limited. The neighboring counties also had their own mountains—no one needed to purchase from this quarry, they could simply dig their own. Stone wasn’t worth much to begin with. In places rich in mineral resources—places with gold or iron ore—every able-bodied man would be pressed into service. That was not the case here.
Zhù Ying had matched the accounts with Deputy Magistrate Guan: the quarry’s annual yield contributed little to the county overall.
Now she needed it.
When Stonemason Pang caught sight of his son, he began glancing over repeatedly. Young Pang kept his head down and did not look at his father. At the quarry, Zhù Ying told the mineral official: “No need to stand on ceremony. These two are stonemasons.” She then let Stonemason Pang go look at the stone.
Father and son looked it over together, discussed it quietly, and both said the stone here was workable. Zhù Ying in turn learned a little more about stone materials, and compared the size of the steles with them—the larger the stone, the more transport difficulty multiplied. A stele about the height of a person, half a person’s width, and a handspan thick could be hauled away on a single large cart and presented no great difficulty.
She assigned this task to the father and son: each day, a county office escort would bring them to the quarry, and the mineral official would oversee their work. A handful of people remained at the quarry; Stonemason Pang and his son also knew how to quarry stone. Before they struck the stone, they already had a mental plan—from this point to that, mark the spot, drill the hole, crack it open…
The rough stele shape would be worked out at the quarry first, then loaded onto a cart and brought to the county town for fine carving and inscription.
Young Pang was spending the last of his savings; his rent was nearly beyond him. His father’s work at the quarry was under the county office’s authority, and the county provided meals but no wage. Zhù Ying arranged wages for young Pang, paying at Fulu County’s standard rate—meals included during work hours. Young Pang didn’t bargain over the price. He calculated that after paying the rent there would be a little left, and he settled down to work.
He was nearly silent in front of Zhù Ying—even more reticent than his father—nothing like the young man who had apparently chatted so readily with Aunt Du. Father and son set to work together, first grinding the rough stone into the stele body—this step alone took more time than quarrying and inscribing combined!
Zhù Ying watched them work, hands clasped behind her back, and said one thing: “You don’t need to be so exact—just make the inscription face smooth and flat.”
She only needed one face inscribed; she wasn’t doing both sides. Each stele would have a numbered marker. The steles were numerous, but there was no shortage of places to erect them.
Father and son first leveled and smoothed the inscription face, then chiseled into it a fine grid of horizontal and vertical lines, laying out one cell after another, and then inscribed the characters within the cells.
Zhù Ying watched them finish the first stele and was very pleased. She said: “Carry on just like this.”
Stonemason Pang then made a request: “The work is heavy—our tools wear down quickly. They’ll need regular repair.”
Zhù Ying said: “Isn’t there a blacksmith over there?”
The people at the Court of Judicial Review had been quite considerate—Zhù Ying had asked for all manner of craftsmen, and they had done their best to oblige. Had the numbers of available convicts allowed, they might have managed to send a complete set of all trades.
The blacksmith’s name was Wan. Blacksmith Wan’s offense was quite ordinary—no complex grievances at all. He had gotten drunk and gotten into a fight, and the strength of a blacksmith was not something ordinary people could withstand. A single fist to the temple had killed a man. The Court of Judicial Review had included him in the batch sent to Zhù Ying.
Fulu County had its own blacksmiths, but their skill fell short of Blacksmith Wan’s.
Blacksmith Wan worked at the county town’s smithy, which was close to where Stonemason Pang worked. Small as the Fulu County yamen was, it had what it needed—a market district, for instance, though with few shops and small premises. The market had only one section: shops in the front, workrooms in the back. After Blacksmith Wan had sorted out Stonemason Pang’s chisels and gouges, he sat and watched the local blacksmith work.
The local blacksmith was busy. During spring planting, broken ploughshares were brought in for repairs. Blacksmith Wan watched him work and found his method clumsy, and jumped up saying: “That’s no way to do it!”
“Then you do it!”
“Fine, I will!”
With Blacksmith Wan involved, the smithy’s work moved much faster. The local blacksmith thought: you jumped in on your own—I never asked you—so don’t expect me to pay you for it.
Blacksmith Wan had no such concerns and simply threw himself into the work.
The craftsmen the Court of Judicial Review had selected for Zhù Ying were genuinely good workers. She assigned tasks to the veterinarian and the others in turn, and Fulu County had no interest in feeding idle people.
Apart from living in the county jail, all their other conditions were decent. The six farmers who knew how to till the land even found the jail better than their own homes in some respects. Some of them had lived in thatched cottages; the jail was built of proper brick with tile roofing—and it didn’t leak!
The six farmers’ main task was to tend Zhù Ying’s land.
By now, the local elders whom she had invited in for advice before spring planting had all gone home for the season. Her land couldn’t be left untended, and the six men had a new assignment: clearing and tilling. Of the six, the eldest was thirty-seven; the youngest was already twenty—those under sixteen had their sentences reduced by degree and would never have been exiled here, unless the whole family had fallen into catastrophic misfortune and been condemned together.
They all shared the single-character surname Dan, and by various degrees of kinship could work out how they were related to one another. The other side of the brawl had also lost people, but to prevent them from continuing to fight along the road, one group had been sent south and the other west, to different destinations.
The thirty-seven-year-old, Dan Ba, was of a lower generation than the twenty-year-old, Dan Liu, and had to call him “uncle.” But when it came to farmwork, Dan Liu had to defer to Dan Ba. Dan Ba had the most experience, and he said to Zhù Ying: “Better to plant a season of beans first. Beans feed the soil—plant them once, and the next crop will grow much better.”
Zhù Ying considered it, and this wouldn’t interfere with planting other things. She said: “Fine, but don’t plant all of it.” She still needed a comparison plot, and wanted to try growing some other seeds as well. She noted everything down one by one.
Dan Ba and the others were illiterate, but they didn’t dare disobey the county magistrate. Obediently taking their ploughs, they got to work.
By the time they had finished planting a round of beans and moved on to rice, the county’s spring planting was entering its final phase.
——
Once spring planting was done, Zhù Ying again invited all the gentry in the county town to the county office for another banquet. The county office had no proper cook, so the food and drink were still ordered from outside—there were few restaurants in the county town to choose from, so they went back to the same one as last time.
The gentry all knew they had done a good thing and felt both self-satisfied and pleased. Gu Weng received his invitation card and took the head table. This time, when he looked at Zhao Su standing behind Zhù Ying at all times, ready to deflect toasts on her behalf, he no longer found it disagreeable.
Zhù Ying opened with some remarks: “Spring planting went smoothly this year, and that is thanks in large part to the generosity of all the elders.”
Gu Weng said: “It is entirely because of Your Excellency’s command and coordination.”
Elder Zhang laughed: “Only command and coordination? Your Excellency worked with her own hands!”
“Are you arguing with me? The magistrate is the one who does the thinking.”
They jousted with each other playfully, and in doing so delivered the compliment sideways. Zhao Su thought: just like a performance.
Widow Chang also attended these gatherings. After enough of them, those around her had grown accustomed to seeing her, and she to appearing. Now she also offered a few words, praising Zhù Ying for not only working hard on official duties but for hosting them so generously in addition.
“It’s a banquet ordered from a restaurant in town—nothing but the usual local dishes. The cost is quite modest,” Zhù Ying said. Then she sighed: “Though modest cost isn’t always a good thing.”
Zhao Su said: “Adoptive Father, there seems to be something deeper in those words?”
Zhù Ying picked up the thread: “Look at this—it’s quite a spread, wouldn’t you say? And yet it costs very little. Which tells you everyone’s pockets are thin. That will not do.”
The main course was about to arrive!
The gentry had assumed this would be an occasion to eat, exchange pleasantries, and then perhaps settle the rental payment schedule. That alone would have been enough to satisfy them—other “benefits” could wait another ten days or half a month. But now they were inwardly stirred with excitement, and when they spoke, all they said was: “Yes, our county is remote and its products are few—it’s naturally a bit poor.” “Our countryside lives a hard life. The poor have it so tough. If one day things could be a bit more comfortable, that would be wonderful.” None of them mentioned their own desire to grow wealthier, yet every sentence wove themselves into the picture.
Zhù Ying said: “I do have an idea or two, and I’d like to discuss them in more detail with all of you.”
The gentry could hardly eat any more, so eager were they to hear what she had in mind. Gu Weng, Elder Zhao, and Elder Zhang exchanged glances at the head table, their hearts stirring, and then they all looked toward Deputy Magistrate Guan, silently condemning him for not leaking them any advance information so they could have come prepared.
Guan was entirely wronged—he genuinely hadn’t known anything of this!
Zhù Ying said: “The details are numerous and there are several steps to prepare. No need to rush it into one meeting. You can all rest easy—the affairs of Fulu County are all on my mind. For now, everyone please enjoy the banquet!”
How could anyone enjoy the banquet?!
The gentry were cursing inwardly but dared not press her. After the spring planting and the livestock rental, they had all seen it: this new county magistrate got things done. This was different from last year’s work of driving out local thugs, cleaning up the county town, and levying the canal repairs—all of those had precedents to draw from. It was obvious she was capable and genuinely wanted to accomplish real things.
But the spring planting livestock rental was different. The idea of bridging the well-off and the poor—providing a hand to each—was a rare thing, and she had organized it well. Those with animals to lend had been very concerned about their property. Those lending many animals had been counting in their heads every day: how are my animals faring?
Even the least sharp person grows perceptive when something they genuinely care about is at stake. And these people discovered: the animals they had handed over could not have been managed more efficiently. Even if they had managed the arrangements themselves, they could not have done as well. Neither the animals’ time nor their energy had been wasted, and the earnings were not bad.
To show goodwill, Gu Weng and the others had offered favorable rates, having decided not to squeeze everything they could out of this. In the end, the “loss” had come out to something they could accept. And unexpectedly, by Zhù Ying’s accounting, the money earned had barely been less than it might have been, and the animals, though worked hard, had not been worked to injury.
The magistrate’s luck was good, too—the convicts sent over included a veterinarian, as it happened.
A group of old foxes, their minds full of plans, kept smiles on their faces and were genuinely enough in good spirits to clink cups with one another. Gu Weng quietly shared a cup with Deputy Magistrate Guan and gave him a look: I need a word with you later!
After the banquet, the gentry gathered at Guan’s home and immediately reproached him for not being a real friend—for not leaking anything in advance!
Guan said: “I truly knew nothing!”
Gu Weng squinted at him sideways. Guan, knowing nothing, couldn’t swagger quite so casually this time either. But he wasn’t flustered; his mind turned quickly, and he said: “What is it that you want to know? The magistrate’s thinking—how would anyone be able to guess it? If you could have seen it coming, you’d be the county magistrate yourself, wouldn’t you? You’d have done it yourself long ago and made yourselves rich.”
“My goodness, an imperial official, an educated man, and all that comes out of his mouth is talk of money. Not proper, not proper at all,” said Gu Weng.
Guan said: “Truly not proper?”
Gu Weng said: “Quite the most proper thing.”
Everyone laughed. Though nothing had been resolved in this gathering, the mood was far better than the last time, when they had actually come out with a plan.
Guan said: “Since you trust her, just do as she says—it’s come to that anyway! Honestly speaking, the past year or more has been a bit tight for all of us. We’ve been making the magistrate look good! But she’s a sharp one, and now it’s time for us to benefit. My take: it’ll all come back.”
Gu Weng thought: pfft! My own life is perfectly fine—I haven’t gone tight at all. The one who’s had it tight is you. No more big gifts to accept, no more skimming from the county coffers!
He said magnanimously: “Can’t say that. The magistrate acts entirely in the public interest, with Fulu County’s welfare at heart. We are all people of Fulu County—how could we bargain with the magistrate?”
Guan thought: pfft! Who was it that practically wept loud enough to hang himself right here in this room, all over some adopted Liao boy?
The two of them looked at each other and smiled again, very amicably.
——
The next day, Zhù Ying had them all summoned back to the county office and laid out her plan—selling a name.
“If Fulu County doesn’t make something of these two characters ‘Fu’ and ‘Lu,’ then we’re wasting a perfectly good name,” Zhù Ying said.
It didn’t have to be oranges specifically, but in Fulu County, there were precious few ordinary products that could be sold at a premium. Rice? It could be called “Fortune Rice” or “Prosperity Arrives”—something like that. But the yields were low, total output was limited, people needed to eat it themselves, and taxes still had to be paid. It wasn’t easy to command a high price.
The locally suitable farmland was limited, the available labor population was not especially large, and you couldn’t drive up prices on every single product with just a name. You had to pick a few things. Zhù Ying had simply happened to encounter the oranges and was now thinking about them. It wasn’t that she didn’t think about lychees and other prized fruits—those were just too difficult to preserve!
Oranges—even the neighboring counties grew them, to say nothing of the neighboring prefectures and provinces. To build a recognized brand out of them required careful planning. Zhù Ying had gathered these people together precisely for this. She said: “First, we build a reputation in the nearby area and test the market—how many buyers are there, and what price is right.”
Besides, if everyone grew oranges and you tried to sell yours at a premium in someone else’s territory simply on the strength of a name, you’d be asking for trouble.
Zhù Ying’s point was: “You need a story! You need to be able to tell a story! And if you can’t tell one, just keep repeating the same thing until it sticks…”
Then there was the question of fruit quality.
Other issues included: how to make the local oranges distinctive, different from all others—otherwise they would easily be passed off as counterfeit.
Zhù Ying had thought through all of it. By her plan, if everyone started moving now, by New Year’s they should be able to have a more comfortable year than usual—and then they could maintain it from there.
Gu Weng said: “Your Excellency, forgive this old man’s dim understanding, but since you already have this idea, why not think bigger? We are willing to pay a little more in travel costs and try our luck selling in the capital. How does that sound?”
The gentry murmured amongst themselves, all finding Gu Weng’s idea inspired.
“If they could get into the palace, the value would multiply a hundredfold—am I right?”
Gu Weng said: “Indeed.”
Zhù Ying sighed and said: “Do you know what the palace market is?”
Gu Weng paused. The palace market—when the palace buys from you. Those with connections worked with the palace buyers to inflate the accounts and took a cut from the emperor’s own treasury—the imperial coffers were exceptionally fat. Those without connections had their finest goods bought at laughably low prices by force—leaving whole families jumping into rivers.
Then there was “tribute oranges.” Zhù Ying had thought through all of it. But she knew the people inside the palace too well. They weren’t quite as bad as the Ten Eunuchs of the later Han, but they were supremely adept at making others come out on the losing end. Fulu County had a thin foundation and couldn’t afford to play servant to those people. The palace market at least gave you some money; items submitted as tribute—did you expect to be paid for those? In the end the palace might casually send some other region’s “tribute items” back to you as your recompense.
“Tribute goods” could be a powerful endorsement—but most couldn’t bear the weight of that reputation.
She left it at that, and the gentry who had less education quietly asked their neighbors what it all meant. Even within the entire Southern Prefecture, let alone Fulu County alone, there had never been any “tribute goods” worth sending to the capital and no trade with the capital to speak of. It was perfectly natural for the local people not to know.
Once it was explained, they all fell silent. Zhù Ying said: “Of course I could pursue these methods myself. I’d lose nothing. I get promoted and leave, and even if you suffer and curse me for it, I won’t be around to hear it. Is that what you want to do? Or shall we start by selling oranges in the prefecture and the province?”
Gu Weng wept. One elder set off a chain, and they all began to shed tears.
Zhù Ying said: “Oranges aren’t easy to sell, either. Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants—merchants rank at the very bottom. Talking money is so vulgar, but not talking money means going hungry—I can’t let Fulu County go hungry. Come, let’s think together about how to grow…”
Zhù Ying was mid-sentence when Tong Bo came rushing in, panicked: “Your Ex—Your Excell—Ex, Ex, Your Excellency! There’s a—a—there’s been a death! Someone’s been killed!”