The next day, Lu Yizhi departed Cizhou. Shen Zechuan instructed Fei Sheng to escort her with the Jin Yi Wei, directing him to ensure she reached Qidong territory safely. The unfinished official business from the previous day was to continue; the study had its windows open, and everyone resumed their seats.
“This is the new document from last night, Tongzhi,” Zhou Gui placed the papers on the table. “Originally, it separated registered commoners and unregistered refugees and increased the severity of punishments. But this morning, after detailed discussion with Yuan Zhuo, he suggested combining the two groups instead of treating them separately.”
“Once the notice is posted, registering will be straightforward,” Yao Wenyu coughed lightly. “Separating them now would be inappropriate; it would anger those newly registered and make it difficult for officials to distinguish old from new.”
Shen Zechuan examined the papers and nodded. “If anyone tries to take advantage, it could pose hidden risks. Now that this matter is settled, the only remaining issue before year’s end is measuring the fields. Cizhou’s land records date back to the Yongyi era and are long outdated.”
“Over the past three years, Cizhou has cultivated much new land. The actual acreage has expanded significantly. The measurements should have been updated last year, but manpower was insufficient, and Lei Changming pressed urgently, so it was delayed,” Zhou Gui calculated. “This must be completed before the year ends; otherwise, snow will make errors inevitable.”
Cizhou now had many constables, but capable clerks were scarce. Advisors mostly oversaw affairs and were not responsible for copying documents, let alone going into the fields to measure land. The government lacked manpower, and Shen Zechuan lacked men as well.
“After registering, we will select locally. Whether locals of Cizhou or arrivals from Dancheng, anyone literate will be recorded for future reference,” Shen Zechuan said, glancing at his advisors. “If someone committed past misdeeds and hides them, we won’t know. Careful screening is necessary. This is a delicate matter; some may try to exploit it, but I know you gentlemen are men of integrity and can distinguish the virtuous from the wicked, without stirring trouble here.”
Having said this so clearly, the advisors who had been smoking immediately rose, some sheepishly, no longer daring to jest.
The advisors were Zhou Gui’s honored guests, able to enter the residence and addressed as “gentlemen,” supported by Zhou Gui. Their means of earning extra income were limited: either selling calligraphy and paintings or attending banquets of local gentry for rewards. With refugees flooding into Cizhou, they were responsible for registration and examining clerks. Naturally, some would attempt to use connections to manipulate matters.
Gao Zhongxiong was one such unlucky soul.
His past had been full of hardship. He had entered the Imperial Academy from Yuzhou, claiming kinship with Qi Huilian. Talented, he had been a leading figure among Qu Du students, writing essays to compete with Yao Wenyu. A year prior, when Xi Hongxuan stirred unrest at the Academy, Gao Zhongxiong led students kneeling in anger, scolding Pan Rugui and Ji Lei as “traitors,” for which the Jin Yi Wei detained him in the imperial prison, ruining his future. Out of spite, he joined Han Jin’s staff—he was the one who suggested turning Han Jin over to the Forbidden Army, leading to Han Jin’s imprisonment in Cizhou, still peeling wall plaster while waiting for rescue.
After Han Jin’s capture, Gao Zhongxiong feared reprisal from Han Cheng, so he relied on an uncle in Dancheng and remained there as Pan Yi’s advisor. Initially, Pan Yi considered him for promotion, but his proposals were all theoretical. Gradually sidelined and mistreated by servants in Pan’s household, he had to move back to his uncle’s home. Misfortune compounded: his uncle died from alcohol-related injury, leaving him helpless. His aunt considered him useless and found an excuse to send him back to Yuzhou.
Ashamed to return home, Gao Zhongxiong tried to live modestly, selling calligraphy and renting a few acres of land. But before he could farm much, local bullies seized it. Complaining to the magistrate, he was beaten in an alley that night, and his house was taken. Penniless, he joined the refugees fleeing Dancheng, hoping for luck in Cizhou.
“Old Xu,” Gao Zhongxiong stood timidly outside, calling out as officials emerged, “any news from the yamen?”
Once a prominent scholar in Qu Du, he now had to lower himself, trying to flatter while maintaining face, appearing somewhat ridiculous.
The constable Xu waved a water-and-fire baton, shoving Gao Zhongxiong aside, and whispered once out of sight of the yamen: “Why are you here?”
Gao Zhongxiong lowered his head in shame, then forced a smile. “I passed by the tavern and brought some wine for you, sir.” Presenting it, he said, “I’ve been in Cizhou a few days. The matter I mentioned before—”
“That matter?” Xu drank and wiped his mouth. “What matter?”
“Trying to secure a post at the yamen,” Gao Zhongxiong said, spitting from his face as he spoke, “asking for your help to deliver a message to the gentlemen—that I was a former student at Qu Du, instructed by the Supervisory Department…”
“Oh, that’s easy!” Xu leaned close. “Give me three taels of silver; I’ll buy some tobacco for the gentlemen, and it’s done!”
Gao Zhongxiong froze, torn between joy and grief. “I’ve already given you everything; I have no money left.”
Xu’s expression darkened. “No silver, how will it get done? Do you think the gentlemen eat for free? They want gold and silver! If I didn’t pity you and mediate, this wouldn’t be enough, ah? Not enough!”
Gao Zhongxiong clutched Xu’s arm. “I’ve already given seven taels… I need some news…”
“You want shortcuts but won’t part with silver,” Xu spat into the flask, disdainfully saying, “Even peeing requires unfastening your belt!”
All Gao Zhongxiong’s money had been swindled by Xu. Living among refugees, filthy as a beggar, he recalled past humiliation in Dancheng. Blood boiling, he lashed out, slapping Xu. “If the task isn’t done, return my money!”
Xu was shocked that Gao Zhongxiong dared strike him. Pointing at his nose: “Hey, you! Lowly wretch hitting me!”
They scuffled. Xu swung his baton at Gao Zhongxiong’s waist, knocking him down, pounding him. Starving and weak, Gao Zhongxiong curled on the ground, clutching his head, crying, gasping, shouting, “Are you human? You tricked me—are you human?!”
Onlookers gathered. Xu, fearing investigation, stopped the public fight, pinning Gao Zhongxiong, shoving a sweatcloth into his mouth. He slapped him repeatedly, leaving him dazed, ears ringing, mouth bleeding.
“Handling a case!” Xu shouted. “This thief came from Dancheng, captured before, dares to seek revenge today!”
Gao Zhongxiong’s voice choked as Xu dragged him into the yamen, scraping his cheek on the ground, bleeding, stretching his hand for help.
Xu’s colleagues kicked him in chest and stomach. For these seasoned constables, subduing a weak scholar was trivial. Once inside, they could pin him under a theft charge and leave him in jail, his fate until August dependent on Xu’s mood.
While this unfolded, Zhou Gui was escorting Shen Zechuan back from the outskirts. The carriage was blocked halfway, assuming it was trouble among refugees.
Shen Zechuan said nothing. Zhou Gui hurried down, parted the crowd, asking, “What’s happening? Why the commotion at the yamen?”
Xu said, “Reporting, sir! Caught a thief! Refuses compliance, even hitting people!”
Zhou Gui, concerned over city security, frowned. “You can’t handle cases like this—beating someone in public? Not right!” He glanced at Gao Zhongxiong, wanting to reprimand him, but thought of Shen Zechuan’s blocked carriage and said, “Bring him in first. Clean him up and interrogate properly.”
Gao Zhongxiong struggled violently, gagged by the sweatcloth.
Yao Wenyu, discussing clerk inspections with Shen Zechuan, saw the stalled carriage. Qiao Tianya lifted the curtain: “Master, it’s still chaos. Let’s detour.”
Shen Zechuan raised the fan, asking, “What’s going on?”
“Caught a thief, the constables grabbed him. No callouses—looks like a scholar,” Qiao Tianya said.
Yao Wenyu, disliking crowds, glanced ahead. The throng obscured all view.
“Detour,” Shen Zechuan lowered the curtain. “Go straight to Zhou’s residence; the study still has people. We must discuss trade matters before dusk.”
As the carriage turned, a piercing cry rang out: “You’re driving me to death! You will ruin me! What kind of yamen is this? Heaven! Is Gao Zhongxiong doomed to this?”
Yao Wenyu suddenly lifted the curtain, telling Qiao Tianya, “Stop! That’s Gao Zhongxiong, instructed by Cen Yu in writing. Tongzhi, he can be of use!”