Chapter Eleven: Facing It Head-On

The owner of the vessel had come to pay the commercial tax, moving briskly as he handed over a piece of broken silver, deftly concealed among a stack of banknotes. Were it not for Zhu Cilang’s vantage point, he might never have noticed such a sly maneuver.

The clerk, upon receiving the payment and feeling the weight of the silver, was visibly pleased, and granted the boat owner a stamped permit. This permit was the essential document allowing merchant ships to pass the customs checkpoint.

With permit in hand, the boat owner submitted the shipping manifest, then sought another clerk for verification and received a receipt. At last, he seemed relieved, carrying his permit and receipt to the shipyard office to write up further documents.

The ship materials had yet to be handed over. Yet Zhu Cilang, who had done his homework, knew that even should the boat owner complete the paperwork and obtain the wooden token required for departure, his ordeal would not be over.

The customs station collected taxes and released vessels twice daily, and the time had not yet arrived. Only when the clerk on duty went to the gates to announce the measurements would the boat owner be required to loudly declare the cargo listed on his manifest—such as which merchant carried what goods, the length of the beam in feet and inches—only then could the vessel pass through.

Watching the boat owner depart with a lighter step, Zhu Cilang sighed softly, “This is exhausting enough.”

It was only then that the clerks noticed several unfamiliar figures had entered the hall—Zhu Cilang and his party, who seemed neither meek nor subservient.

“Hey, who are you? Coming to the Ministry of Revenue’s Tax Division, failing to present your shipping and tax documents, lingering here—is it your intention to disrupt official business?” The clerk, his pale face somewhat plump, looked stern, adopting the dignity of the Tax Division, emanating an air of authority not to be challenged.

Zhu Cilang appraised him inwardly before responding with a gentle smile. How unfortunate, he thought—the man was fierce, but only to his own superior.

Yes, a future superior, soon to be appointed.

“My lord has come to the Tax Division on official business, which is not for a minor clerk such as yourself to question,” Si Qi, standing beside him, suddenly stepped forward, shielding Zhu Cilang, his gaze fierce as he glared at the clerk.

Zhu Cilang nodded slightly, thinking to himself how wonderful it was to have loyal companions.

The clerk, startled by Si Qi’s glare, suddenly caught a few key words: lord? An official?

“So you are a superior? May I ask which office you represent? There are several offices in Linqing; even for official business, proper documentation must be presented. I am part of the Tax Division, and today I have not heard of any superior visiting on official business. I have, however, heard of some unruly individuals impersonating officials.” The clerk’s words were polite yet pointed, clearly not intimidated.

Si Qi and Old Seventeen exchanged uneasy glances. In Linqing’s Tax Division, they had likely encountered all manner of officials. For a common seventh-rank minor official, passing through the checkpoint might be possible, but to exert authority within the Tax Division, one needed a prestigious post indeed.

Just as the two braced themselves for humiliation, Zhu Cilang spoke in a calm yet piercing tone, fixing his gaze on the clerk: “I am Qin Xia, newly appointed as the chief officer of the Ministry of Revenue’s Tax Division. Kindly summon Master Chu Lushan, Chief of the Tax Division, to meet me.”

“Our lord is confronting him head-on!” Both men felt this thought rise in their minds.

The clerk, who had been steady and imposing, did not seem to regard Qin Xia—a young official—as anything noteworthy. In his mind, such a youth, even if drawn from the ranks of top scholars, would at most be a county magistrate of the seventh rank, newly posted to the south. To wield authority in the Tax Division would be entirely unfitting.

Yet the clerk could never have imagined that this young man was none other than Qin Xia—the very name that had been the subject of countless discussions and rumors in the Tax Division these past days.

“Qin... Chief Qin?” The clerk was momentarily stunned, his complexion changing abruptly. “Subordinate... Yan Wei...”

Yan Wei bowed, intending to run to the inner office to notify Chief Chu Lushan, but another clerk, Wu Yin, immediately bolted, calling out, “Subordinate Wu Yin, I shall inform Master Chu at once.”

Immediately, Yan Wei heard the rush of footsteps behind him, and found himself alone facing Zhu Cilang, as the clerk who had initially brought the boat owner in was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, only Yan Wei remained in the hall, trembling as he faced Zhu Cilang, his mind racing through all the rumors he had heard lately.

“They say a fierce man named Qin Xia has arrived, targeting us clerks.”

“Unlike those clueless civil officials, Qin Xia is versed in administration. He ousted the clerks in the Ministry of Revenue and promoted his own people, taking all the positions. There’s no future for us!”

“I heard that in the capital, hundreds of white banners rose overnight among the Shaoxing people—such tragedy…”

“What to do, what to do, we’ve provoked a living demon…” Yan Wei wished he could slap himself. He felt particularly aggrieved—how had diligent work brought such a ruthless superior upon them? As his thoughts ran their course, only confusion and dread remained.

Zhu Cilang, meanwhile, paid no heed to Yan Wei’s dazed state, but calmly began flipping through the documents in the office. Especially when he reviewed the stacks of archived tax and shipping manifests, his gaze brightened, and he read with intense concentration, as if the outside world no longer existed.

It seemed almost purposeful, as if to test both Yan Wei and Zhu Cilang, for after Wu Yin fled, no one else entered the room. No one dared.

Yan Wei, dispirited, did not dare disturb Zhu Cilang as he read.

As for Zhu Cilang, he seemed entirely oblivious to being left alone, immersing himself in his review. When he came upon the manifests and tax receipts from mid-March of the fifteenth year of the Chongzhen reign, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips. Thereafter, he only glanced casually at the documents, paying little attention to detail.

Nearly an hour had passed since Zhu Cilang announced his identity—well into the midday break—when a middle-aged man finally approached, his steps measured, his gaze fixed intently on Zhu Cilang as he scrutinized him.

Zhu Cilang, for his part, seized the opportunity to observe the newcomer.

This was, of course, Chu Lushan, Chief of the Linqing Tax Division of the Ministry of Revenue.

Chu Lushan, with an innocent and apologetic expression, addressed Zhu Cilang, “I must beg your forgiveness for keeping you waiting, Lord Qin. I truly regret the delay. I have always been accustomed to a midday nap, and this caused me to be somewhat tardy. My guidance was lacking—I never expected these fools would not dare wake me. By the time I awoke, Lord Qin had been waiting far too long.”

As he spoke, Chu Lushan coldly pointed at Wu Yin, “All fools, delaying my welcome for Lord Qin! If Lord Qin had brought urgent matters of state requiring immediate attention, such negligence would have hindered the court’s business. Hmph, I shall deal with you all after I have properly received Lord Qin!”