Chapter 580: Chapter 580

Old White Ox: Every time I ask for monthly tickets, so many come in — I'm grateful and delighted. A new volume begins; I'll do my best to write it brilliantly.

……

The tenth month of the fourteenth year of Chongzhen's reign. Taiyuan.

The weather had grown colder still. One blast of that deadly north wind would turn a man's face green and his lips purple at once, and a fine, dense flurry of snowflakes drifted down from the sky from time to time. Yet today was the ancient Lower Primordial Festival, and every household was grinding glutinous rice flour to make little dumplings — the festive joy diluted the deepening chill.

Taiyuan was famed as the finest city under heaven, a city of brocade and splendor. Here lay the seat of the Prince of Jin's estate. At this moment, inside a residence on Chaoyang Street by the Yinghui Gate, waves of clamor rose one after another. The residence looked ordinary from the outside, but within lay a hidden world. Through courtyard after courtyard, every part was lavishly adorned — Jingdezhen sacrificial red porcelain, Jingcheng's embroidered tapestries, Suzhou goldware — all laid out as if they cost nothing.

There were also layer upon layer of heated hollow walls, keeping the entire residence as warm as spring, rivaling the air conditioning and central heating of later ages, and even more environmentally friendly.

At this moment, a banquet was underway in the main hall, with dense rows of maids and matrons in attendance. The guests all sat on official's-hat armchairs of yellow rosewood and eight-legged round stools of yellow rosewood, cushioned with Bozhou tribute brocade. Such grandeur would make even a Grand Secretary of the Cabinet bow in humble defeat.

In the seat of honor sat a merchant so old he scarcely seemed real, his face a web of furrows, etched with the marks of wind, frost, and the vicissitudes of life. His every movement trembled, yet on that deeply wrinkled face, one could still faintly discern the square, angular features of his youth — a classic Jin region countenance.

He seemed bleary with age, but the sharp glint that occasionally flashed in his murky eyes told you this man was no simple figure. He was like an old fox: sometimes utterly unremarkable in appearance, but anyone who tried to scheme against him would stumble into a fall before they even knew what hit them.

The hall was packed with people, yet none slighted him for his age; every face bore deference or respect. Beside him sat a man, conspicuously — middle-aged, with a shrewd expression. This was none other than the Fan family's eldest young master, Fan Sanba, who had once appeared on the Eastern Circuit.

So this old man was the famously notorious Fan Yongdou of the late Ming.

He had just spoken for a while. Perhaps the aged fear the cold — even though the hall walls were thick heated hollow walls, and fiery charcoal blazed in several exquisite bronze braziers set in the corners, he still subconsciously tightened the fur collar around him. It was a black fox-fur collar, produced on the Eastern Circuit.

Eastern Circuit furs were now renowned not only throughout the Xuanfu Garrison's various circuits, but also had many admirers across Shanxi. Their craftsmanship was not necessarily the most exquisite, but they won out through boldness, solidity, generous material, and no adulteration — unlike certain unscrupulous merchants who claimed their stock was fox fur but actually passed off dog skin.

Though these Shanxi merchants, when out in the world, would make their houses, carriages, and conveyances resplendent to keep up appearances, in their daily necessities of clothing, food, shelter, and travel, they mostly prized substance. Thus the Eastern Circuit's style suited their tastes perfectly.

Looking around at those present, every single one wore either Eastern Circuit black sable or squirrel fur. Fan Sanba, likewise, wore a suit of purple-gold sable fur robes produced by the Eastern Circuit.

Pursuing Eastern Circuit goods had become a fashion and a trend in many parts of Shanxi. Anyone whose household lacked a few Eastern Circuit goods would be laughed at if word got out. Eastern Circuit firearms and weapons, in particular, were hot items on the black market.

This made many merchants vaguely sense that something was amiss. Though they did not understand what "dumping" meant, they instinctively felt the threat.

At the same time, they were puzzled: where did the Eastern Circuit get so much high-quality fur? Where did so many craftsmen come from?

Many had vaguely heard some news. Those Eastern Circuit merchants had been capturing Tatars beyond the frontier. Many of those Tatars were highly skilled in the fur trade. Whenever the topic of their gains came up, merchants across Shanxi were filled with envy, jealousy, and hatred, and they too began to scheme — perhaps they should go capture a batch of Tatars themselves.

"Come, come, everyone, have some dumplings."

Fan Yongdou beckoned again, his voice quavering, and added: "These vegetarian offerings have been blessed beforehand by the masters of the Pure Yang Temple to dispel calamity and bestow good fortune."

The assembled merchants all broke into flattery: "Old Fan's connections are truly vast. The masters of the Pure Yang Temple are exceedingly difficult to engage."

After eating a few glutinous rice dumplings, the hall fell quiet. Everyone knew that Fan Yongdou had gone to great lengths to invite them, these renowned merchants of Shanxi, for something far more than just eating dumplings.

Fan Yongdou, however, first shot a glance at the maidservant beside him. Earlier, when he had tightened his own clothes, the girl had not even known to use the bronze fire tongs to stir the brazier coals — truly dull-witted. Fan Sanba noted his father's expression, summoned the steward, and whispered a few words. Very quickly, that dull-witted maidservant vanished, replaced by another girl trembling with fear.

As for the dull-witted maidservant losing her livelihood — whether she starved or froze to death in this bitter cold, or dragged her family down to starve or freeze with her — that was no concern of Fan Yongdou and Fan Sanba.

Fan Yongdou swept his gaze over the crowd. From his pair of murky, baggy eyes shot a cold gleam like a venomous snake's. Darkly, he said: "I wonder if all you shopkeepers have heard — in this great Liaodong campaign, the imperial army has won."

"Yes, they've won."

"Word has already come from the capital."

"My eyes and ears in the capital and Liaodong have all sent word. The Great Ming has won, and reaped considerable gains..."

A clamor rose from the crowd in the hall, but their words carried little joy. Some were even gnashing their teeth.

"Winning is a good thing. We are all subjects of the Heavenly Dynasty, and naturally rejoice at the imperial army's victory. Only, our Loyal and Valiant Earl, the General Who Guards the North, has grown even more formidable — and trouble is coming for us all."

Fan Yongdou chuckled, but his eyes held not a trace of mirth.

He said: "I hear that that fellow Wang is to be enfeoffed as a marquis. He now holds substantive command over one garrison; in the future, when he moves into Xuanfu, will there still be a path for us to live?"

He looked smilingly at the assembled guests below. The hall was silent. After a long moment, a merchant at the lower left said: "Is Old Fan not overstating the matter? Look at the merchants now on the Eastern Circuit — they are living quite prosperously. It may not be impossible for us to cooperate with them and grow rich together."

His words drew a chorus of agreement.

Fan Yongdou was growing old and had rarely stepped into the foreground. The clan's business was mostly managed by his son, Fan Sanba. Setting aside Fan Yongdou's age, even his wealth ranked among the very top of these merchants.

He also had extensive connections, with supporters both at court and in the provinces. He himself had served as the head of various merchant guilds for many years, his prestige long established. This was why he faintly held the position of leader among the Shanxi merchants. His words carried the weight of nine cauldrons, and few dared contradict him.

Now that he had personally taken the stage, the response was naturally overwhelming. Yet the man who had spoken up below was no ordinary figure either — he was the head of the Wang family, one of the Eight Great Houses. He was fat, with two large, emerald-green thumb rings on his thumbs, exuding an air of dense wealth and nobility.

The Wang family dealt in raw silk, silk satin, cotton, grain, sugar, tea, medicinal herbs, and other industries. Their family assets numbered in the millions. They also had close ties with the Wang family, a hereditary military household of the Datong frontier generals — they were, by reckoning, clan kin. Without their full support, Wang Pu could never have become the Chief Military Officer of the Datong Garrison. For the establishment of his New Army Camp, they had likewise provided vast funds and provisions.

With such status, he could naturally question Fan Yongdou's words with composure.

Fan Yongdou did not grow angry. He chuckled coldly, picked up his silver chopsticks, and slowly chewed a dumpling.

Fan Sanba rose with a smile, bowed to all around, then cupped his hands toward the Wang family head: "Elder Wang."

The Wang family head said carelessly: "Mm, speak."

In his eyes, Fan Sanba was merely a junior, so naturally he did not need the caution he showed toward Fan Yongdou.

Fan Sanba spoke with composure: "Honored elders, esteemed shopkeepers, there is a saying: prepare for a rainy day. We all know something of this man Wang Dou. Looking at his career, one can describe it as ruthless and insatiably greedy."

He continued: "Since his rise, wherever he has gone, there has been nothing but bloody storms. The Zhang family of the Eastern Circuit — you all know them. They were the clan uncles of the former Xuanfu Garrison Vice Chief Military Officer, Zhang Guowei. He killed them anyway. The old man only wanted to do a little business in peace — what crime was there in that?"

"It is said that the shopkeepers on the Eastern Circuit are now living quite prosperously, but what does that have to do with us? To put it bluntly, they are living by sucking our blood. Tell me, everyone, since all those various goods have been shipped in, how greatly have your businesses been affected?"

These words struck a chord with many. Immediately, some of the smaller merchants in the hall began to wail. One in particular, a gaunt, emaciated merchant surnamed Zhao, broke into loud sobs. Many shopkeepers knew this man — he had originally run a sable fur shop in Taiyuan, specializing in custom fur robes for wealthy households. Now facing bankruptcy, his once plump, rotund frame had wasted away, becoming the figure they saw before them.

Seeing his grief-stricken expression, everyone present felt somewhat awkward. Originally, many of them had been customers of this Merchant Zhao, yet now, one by one, they all wore Eastern Circuit furs. They could hardly be blamed — Eastern Circuit winter clothing was both splendid and substantial. Anyone with discernment knew the right choice. It was only natural his sable shop could not stay open, though, come to think of it, this too counted as one of the Eastern Circuit's crimes.

Fan Sanba observed the expressions of the crowd, smiled faintly, and continued: "This is only the first point. The second — everyone knows the situation on the Eastern Circuit. All merchants, without exception, must pay taxes according to the law. Otherwise, being fined into utter ruin is the least of it; the heavier penalty is imprisonment, spending the rest of your days in the mines. May I ask, who among you here is willing to dig into your own purse for that?"

At this, even the Wang family head's face changed. Though the focus of much of his business was in Taiyuan and Datong, he also had considerable holdings in Zhangjiakou. Wang Dou would soon take up his post in the garrison city, and his reach would inevitably extend to Zhangjiakou. If taxes had to be paid, the sum, by his reckoning, would be no small amount. The Wang family head was not willing to part with that money.

Fan Sanba raised another finger: "The third point: Wang Dou strictly forbids private trade beyond the passes. I wonder how many of you here can abide by that?"

The faces of the crowd changed even more. Smuggling beyond the frontier was the very lifeblood of their wealth. Without it, or with restrictions placed upon it, they would wish for death. Moreover, since the Eastern Circuit's rise, their trade with the Qing state had been severely restricted, and their revenues had plummeted. Many harbored a bone-deep hatred for Wang Dou.

And that was only when Wang Dou was a Brigade Commander on the Eastern Circuit. Now that he was about to become Chief Military Officer, the very thought made their prospects seem bleak. Their holdings in Zhangjiakou, in particular, filled them with incomparable concern and dread.

Fan Sanba continued: "The Eastern Circuit is a place of many oddities. They have now opened official grain stores and banks. Private lending is forbidden, and grain cannot be bought up at will..."

He smiled as he looked at the Wang family head, whose expression had grown even more unsightly, then shifted his gaze to a grim-faced merchant seated at the lower right: "Wang Dou's official fortune has soared. From a garrison soldier at a beacon tower, eating chaff and swallowing weeds, he has become the Chief Military Officer of an entire garrison, and now he is even to be enfeoffed as a marquis. If one day he truly holds sway over Xuanfu and Datong, then, as my father said, will there still be a path for us to live?"

"And let us not forget — his convenient father-in-law is already the current Supreme Commander of Xuanfu and Datong... With every step forward Wang Dou takes, must we all take a step back?"

"What does Chief Shopkeeper Kang think?"

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