Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Story of Old Joe

“Qin Xia said that the accounts can be settled in four days, and every ledger will be tallied one by one,” Luo Daren declared, unable to contain his excitement.

“Truly?” At these words, Fu Shuxun’s brows arched in surprise. “Someone, summon my son Ru Gui!”

Luo Daren hastily replied, “This is a matter of utmost importance. How could I speak carelessly? This is Qin Xia’s own promise, and with the skill of that golden abacus hand-cranked calculator, and the resolve of scholars like Chang Zhilang, I doubt it will even take four days!”

“Excellent, excellent, excellent!” Fu Shuxun exclaimed, repeating the word three times. “The great matter is accomplished!”

Seeing this, Luo Daren’s heart twisted with uncertainty, yet he finally gathered the courage to ask, “Once the Grand Minister of Agriculture has the results of the ledgers, what then? According to Qin Xia, a special Accounting Taskforce has been established under the Ministry of Revenue to report directly to you, and even the Son of Heaven’s attention is upon this…”

The mention of such an odd title gave Fu Shuxun a jolt. But at the thought of the Emperor, his mind drifted back to that enigmatic expression he’d seen on His Majesty’s face in court.

That strange title was, of course, something Qin Xia had invented to reassure others, but the Emperor’s attention was real enough. Since the Crown Prince had intervened, how could the Emperor not be watching closely?

With this in mind, Fu Shuxun decided he would stand behind Zhu Cilang and said slowly, “It is as you say—Qin Xia’s leadership in this matter is genuine. The cleansing and rectification of the Ministry of Revenue must be thorough; only then can I report back to His Majesty.”

With these words, the last great stone in Luo Daren’s heart finally dropped. He knew that a life of wealth and honor was all but within his grasp.

At that moment, Fu Rugui arrived just in time and saluted the two of them.

Fu Shuxun handed him three personal letters, saying, “Take this one to Wang Tingmei, Prefect of Shuntian Prefecture. Borrow three squads of constables from him; you’ll need them to seal the Zhejiang Guild Hall and detain the clerks. I will personally issue orders at the Ministry of Revenue to support this action—no one will escape.”

“This one you will deliver to Wang Daozhi, Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate. Once delivered, return at once; no need to involve yourself further.”

“And this one… take it to Old Clerk Wang Beiguan of Shuntian Prefecture. You may act with an air of superiority when you see him. That’s all—go, take these letters. Wait—one more thing: tell our old retainers at home to be vigilant these next few days. No one is to come or go without permission. Be ready at all times.”

Jiaozhong Ward, Wude Guard Barracks.

During the days of the Taizu Emperor, the Wude Guard was actually stationed here. But when the Chengzu Emperor moved the capital north and established the Imperial Garrison in the capital, this place lost its original function. Most of the Wude Guard’s soldiers had been drafted into the Right Battalion of the Five Armies Camp, turning the Wude Guard Barracks into the encampment for the Right Battalion.

Truth be told, the Right Battalion of the Five Armies Camp was a sorry lot. The main force had followed Sun Yingyuan south to Huguang Province to fight peasants, leaving behind the old, the weak, the sick, and the wounded. Just recently, Sun Yingyuan had sent nearly a thousand wounded men by river—via the Yangtze and Grand Canal—back to the capital, so after months of travel, the Right Battalion had gained a new host of invalids.

To make matters worse, since these wounded had fought in Huguang, that province ought to be supplying them. But Sun Yingyuan’s forces hadn’t returned to the capital, and there were no provisions for them in the capital’s military rolls.

More crucially, the Ministry of Revenue had no funds or grain, and the Ministry of War despised wounded men and was preoccupied with the affairs in Liaodong. They had neither the time nor inclination to care.

Thus, life in the Right Battalion, already difficult, became even harsher with the arrival of several hundred more wounded.

Still, Heaven never blocks all roads. At some unknown point, a lavish figure appeared in the Right Battalion, treating the poorest soldiers—those with large families and heavy burdens—to meals, occasionally finding them odd jobs, sometimes even earning a little copper. In time, the Right Battalion found itself with a faint glimmer of life.

Naturally, this generous man gained great fame in the camp. Mention the name “Qiao Third,” and everyone would give a thumbs-up.

Of course, only the old soldiers called him Qiao Third. His real name was Qiao Bosheng, but few used it, as most soldiers were illiterate. Even his three-character name had cost his parents fifty big coins to bestow. The younger or newer wounded, likewise illiterate, greeted him with respect as “Master Qiao.”

But today, Master Qiao was different.

He wore an air of reverence as he bowed obsequiously in his tent to a visitor. “It’s nothing, really. No need for you to come in person for such a small matter, Master Chen. Just send someone with your orders, and Qiao Third will see to it immediately.”

Chen Gaowen’s face showed a hint of a smile, but he had neither the time nor the patience for Qiao Bosheng’s flattery. “A small matter? Would I have come myself for a small matter?”

Qiao Third grinned awkwardly, but before he could reply, Chen Gaowen suddenly barked, “Qiao Bosheng!”

“Here, Master Chen! Your orders!” Qiao Bosheng stiffened, his ingratiating smile fading into seriousness.

Seeing this, Chen Gaowen finally spoke. “How have I treated you?”

At this, Qiao Third was both anxious and relieved—the time for the real play had come. It was for this moment that Qiao Third had won such renown in the Right Battalion, all thanks to the two thousand taels of silver Chen Gaowen had given him. Such a sum could sustain fifty families in comfort for two years, and it was more than enough for Chen Gaowen to use to win hearts and rescue the desperate.

Chen Gaowen had not shown such generosity out of pity for a disabled veteran. The wealthy always give with purpose; the greater the favor, the greater the expectation of repayment.

And Chen Gaowen’s judgment was sound: Qiao Third was one of those rare men in the army who remembered a kindness.

So from the day he took the silver, Qiao Third knew well that five hundred taels were not easy to accept.

But if he refused? So many brothers in the camp were destitute, unable to put food on the table; wives and children cried for food at home, aged mothers awaited support. If he didn’t take the money, who would feed them?

Naturally, having taken it, he owed his life in service—perhaps even to the point of sacrificing it.

Now the day had come. Qiao Third was not especially nervous; in truth, he felt relieved to understand his purpose. It was only a life, after all—one he had already nearly lost. What harm in risking it once more?

“Master Chen, your kindness is as great as a second birth,” Qiao Third replied calmly. “This life of mine was saved by you from the very start.”

“Good!” Chen Gaowen nodded slowly. “I want the Right Battalion to move! Make as much noise as possible—enough to reach the ears of the Son of Heaven himself!”

“Your orders, Master!” Qiao Bosheng replied evenly.

At this, Chen Gaowen’s smile grew. Had Qiao Bosheng shouted and boasted, he might not have trusted him. But this calm acceptance spoke of careful thought and little regret.

So Chen Gaowen spoke quickly: “What I want you to do is not to harm yourselves, but to claim what is rightfully yours—your back pay! In three days’ time, I want the whole Imperial Garrison in an uproar…”

“I want it so loud that even the Emperor knows, so urgent that the Ministry of War can no longer suppress it, and the Ministry of Revenue must act!”

“From today—let there be no rest from Jiaozhong Ward to the capital itself!”