Chapter 734: Heaven Wants the Qing Destroyed!

Now throughout the Xuan-Da region, more and more storytellers and theater troupe members were becoming peripheral personnel of the Shogunate Intelligence Division. They drew a fixed monthly salary, enough to securely support an entire family, old and young alike. The better their propaganda effect, the greater their rewards, so they all threw themselves into extolling the Shogunate’s cause with overflowing enthusiasm.

Sometimes the rigid newspaper text, when sung and performed by them, became full of dramatic twists and brilliant flourishes — “To know what happens next, pray listen to the next installment” — leaving countless listeners’ hearts as restless as a nest of little mice scratching, an unbearable itch.

Under their propaganda, not only were the poor households of Xuan-Da, with little or no land, stirred to interest, but even the more well-to-do families were likewise moved. What they all saw eye-to-eye on was the future stability and tranquility of the Anbei Protectorate.

After all, among the three garrisons of Xuan-Da, apart from Wang Dou’s Xuanfu Garrison, none could be called prosperous, much less stable.

Shanxi had always been a place of many people and little land, and land consolidation was extremely severe: the rich had fields stretching across the horizon, while the poor had barely enough ground to stand an awl. Coupled with successive droughts, natural disasters, and man-made calamities, bandits were everywhere. Especially the countless large and small bandit gangs, as numerous as ox hairs — even the somewhat wealthier commoners had no sense of security.

In truth, with roving bandits and brigands everywhere across the Great Ming now, and people abandoning their fields and homes, it was impossible to say there was no arable or vacant land. Moreover, the north suffered drought after drought, people fled their homes, and vast stretches of a hundred li became uninhabited. Those abandoned wastelands could very well be reclaimed.

But would the common people dare to settle and farm in peace?

On a large scale, roving bandits and horse bandits ran rampant; on a small scale, local county ruffians and petty thieves were as numerous as ox hairs. Perhaps before one could even settle down, bandits and refugees would come burning and killing at the door. Any modest family property painstakingly accumulated might one day be destroyed and the family wiped out, with all the grain, chickens, ducks, cattle, and sheep looted clean.

People say “not fearing scarcity but fearing inequality” is terrible, yet what is even more terrible is “not fearing poverty but fearing insecurity.”

Even in poverty, a stable living environment always gives people hope to carry on. Living in constant peril, with today but no tomorrow, leaves people in perpetual, helpless anxiety.

Decent commoners barely scraping by, threatened on all sides, would for the sake of their lives ultimately be forced to abandon their homes and join the great flight from famine, becoming part of the refugee tide. Then they would destroy even more homes, creating a vicious cycle until the whole system collapsed.

The most frightening thing in life is the lack of security, and this was something that Marquis Yongning, Wang Dou, could absolutely guarantee.

Under his rule, bandits and thieves were virtually extinct. One only needed to obey the law, be diligent and willing to work, and everyone could live and work in peace, enjoying tranquility. This point, especially in chaotic times, was perhaps the most attractive of all.

Now, throughout Shanxi — the Shanxi Garrison, the Datong Garrison, and deep within the province — these were not Wang Dou’s jurisdictions. He no longer relied on suppressing bandits for income. Although Wang Pu, Zhou Yuji, and others led government troops in encirclement campaigns, they could not eliminate the breeding ground. How could bandits ever be eradicated?

When Wang Dou suppressed bandits back then, he employed multiple measures simultaneously, combining bandit suppression with civil administration, along with a strict local baojia system. How could Wang Pu and the others possibly achieve that?

Ruined households, famine victims, and refugees trudged along the roads in ragged groups. Driven by hunger and forced by survival, they were capable of doing anything.

In the mountain hollows, bandits stirred restlessly, ready to act.

Faced with the wolf-like, tiger-like covetous gazes all around, with cries of “strike the rich, feast on the rich” everywhere, anyone with a bit of family wealth sat and stood in restless unease. More people banded together in stockades for self-protection, but how could ordinary families manage that?

Crossing into Wang Dou’s domain and living a stable life thus became the choice of many. Even if some commoners in Xuanfu Garrison did not live as well as they did, having a stable environment was enough.

Moreover, the people of this nation followed the principle of “a cunning rabbit has three burrows.” With the shining example of Zhuge Kongming before them and the worthy model of the Zu family of Liaodong after them, even if they were reluctant to leave their homeland, families and clans with many members could well send a few branches to migrate to Wang Dou’s domain. This was called “blooming on all sides, flourishing everywhere” — there would always be one branch that was bright and thriving.

Besides, the land and pastures in Monan were not expensive. Medium- and low-grade farmland cost about one tael of silver per mu. After a few years of cultivation, it could be passed down as a family inheritance. For gentry and commoners of means, why not hurry over and secure another piece of family property?

In truth, there was no shortage of wasteland within Shanxi now, and local governments everywhere were encouraging land reclamation, often promising preferential terms like no tax payments for five or ten years. But to the common people, the local officials’ words were empty. Who knew whether the land, once reclaimed, would truly belong to them?

In a chaotic environment, could family wealth ultimately be preserved? Would roving bandits and brigands come to plunder? Would one have wealth but no life to enjoy it? These and many other questions involved considerations of government credibility, confidence, and various other aspects.

Regrettably, the credibility of the Great Ming imperial court was now virtually zero. You officials say no taxes for ten or five years, that reclaiming land won’t cost a single coin — we common folk just think you’re fooling us. If pies really fell from the sky, the Great Ming wouldn’t have come to this pass.

And what if this official is decent, but the next one turns his back and refuses to honor the promises? This is called “when the man dies, his policies die with him”!

As for Wang Dou, many people cursed him, but they deeply trusted his credibility and confidence. Especially when the gold mine discovered on Lai Mancheng’s land ultimately remained his private property — when that news spread, it truly shocked every province of the Great Ming and made Wang Dou’s credibility sink even deeper into people’s hearts.

Now the newspaper said that even barren land had to be purchased, and taxes would be levied the very next year…

That was more like it. Marquis Yongning might be a bit greedy, but when it came to conduct, he was solid.

…

Wherever the newspaper reached, whether it was the recruitment of officials or the reclamation of land beyond the frontier, many people’s hearts were stirred. Of course, people were of all kinds, with different interests, and the things they cared about varied.

The north wind carried light snow, falling now urgently, now gently, piling a pristine white layer on the eaves of this guild hall.

Inside, it was warm. The charcoal fire burned bright red. An exquisite hot pot bubbled and boiled, steam rising thickly. On a bronze rack beside it, a small pot of wine was being warmed, kept at just the right temperature. As the steam rose, waves of enticing aromas of wine and food wafted to the nose.

Wang Pu, wrapped in a fur-lined outer coat, sat eating and drinking with his trusted general Wang Zheng and others, listening as Staff Officer Tian beside them read the newspaper, occasionally offering a few comments, thoroughly at ease.

Wang Zheng said, “Marquis Yongning so openly recruits officials — does he not fear the court’s suspicion? And the Shogunate’s structure is also openly published — is he not afraid of outsiders probing its secrets?”

Wang Pu said, “This is called openness and magnanimity. Marquis Yongning’s power is already established — what does he have to fear? The Shogunate’s structure is placed in the newspaper for all to see openly. There’s a line of poetry: ‘Unable to see the true face of Mount Lu.’ Without understanding the principles within, one ends up merely imitating blindly, alas…”

Wang Zheng said, “General, the Protectorate wants to gather refugees and disaster victims throughout Xuan-Da. Though it’s a good thing… I fear that by then even the tenant farmers might all run off.”

Wang Pu said, “No harm. It’s a good thing if all the poor wretches leave. The ancient sages spoke of ‘no one picking up lost articles on the road, no need to bolt doors at night.’ Without the poor wretches, my Datong Garrison might have a chance to realize such a sage-like atmosphere…”

“The Civil Affairs Department states: The newly established Anbei Bank brings together the strength of all the worthy merchants of the Three Jin, with a capital injection of ten million taels of silver. The maximum annual interest on deposits can reach three percent… This newspaper interviewed Vice Minister of Civil Affairs and Bank Governor Tian Chang. Governor Tian said: ‘Those of you with silver and gold, don’t let it grow moldy in your cellars. Especially those who make silver melons — that’s just foolish… Don’t hesitate, bring it all out and deposit it. Up to three percent annual interest! The interest alone each year is enough to live on in plenty. Let me reveal a little: all the generals of our Jingbian Army, all the Shogunate officials, and at least several hundred officials’ wives have deposited their private savings in the Anbei Bank. You are all shrewd people — old Tian here won’t say more…’ The Civil Affairs Department states that in the future, officials’ salaries will also be distributed to each person via passbook, thoroughly eliminating superiors’ withholding of pay!”

“Stop, stop, stop!”

Wang Pu interrupted Staff Officer Tian’s reading. Stroking his small beard, he mused, “What do you all think — is this Anbei Bank reliable or not? I’ve already sought out Master Yang and the others. Their silver-melon casting is a specialty in Shanxi — ordinarily, they’re very hard to hire…”

Wang Zheng was also puzzled: “This is the first time I’ve heard of a money shop offering annual interest. That’s quite good. But the Anbei Bank isn’t running a charity, is it… How do they operate?”

At this time, although there were many money shops in the Great Ming, depositing money not only earned no interest but also required paying storage fees. Moreover, the exchange of silver and coin was limited to the local area. Inter-regional remittance would not appear until at least the late Qing period.

Transporting large sums of silver and coin between regions at this time relied on escort agencies for protection, which was one reason escort agencies flourished during the Ming and Qing.

According to the newspaper, not only did deposits earn interest, but inter-regional transfers were also possible. This was indeed a good thing.

But what he didn’t understand was: if all the benefits went to the customers, how would the bank survive?

Staff Officer Tian let out a snort of laughter and stroked his goatee. He prided himself on being resourceful and indeed usually paid close attention to such matters.

He said, “Nothing strange about it. It’s easy for a bank to survive — just issue loans. Besides, didn’t the newspaper say? Deposits and withdrawals both incur fees. Though small individually, with thousands upon thousands of people, grains of sand build a tower, and the annual profit is quite substantial.”

He continued, “The bank offers annual interest — do you think that’s out of kindness? When we deposit money, it’s equivalent to handing all that silver over to the bank to use. Everywhere, factories and workshops need to be opened. Those short of funds go to the bank for loans. What’s the annual interest on those? Just from lending each year, the bank can fill its coffers to bursting. Isn’t that how money shops everywhere operate?”

Wang Pu stroked his chin: “That makes sense.”

Wang Zheng also felt reassured. Put that way, the Anbei Bank was reliable. He decided to take half his silver and deposit it in the bank. If the annual interest proved substantial, he would deposit the rest. After all, the Jingbian Army generals had all deposited money — what did he have to fear?

And he knew Marquis Yongning’s character. The bank was his Shogunate’s enterprise — he certainly wouldn’t swindle everyone’s silver.

Wang Pu also made up his mind: when the Anbei Bank set up in Datong Garrison City, he would take half the silver from his cellar and deposit it in the bank to earn interest. Then, recalling something else, he laughed and said, “Once the bank is established, the usurers all over Shanxi are going to suffer.”

In the Great Ming at present, there were few major landlords, high officials, or great merchants who did not engage in usury. But Wang Pu didn’t care. Usury was just one of his family’s businesses. Now, by closely following Wang Dou, there were plenty of opportunities to make money, and he looked down on the pittance from usury.

Staff Officer Tian likewise laughed: “Indeed. Back when Marquis Yongning opened grain shops and money shops in the Eastern Circuit, he slaughtered the usurers of those days until blood flowed like pestles. And now… everyone is afraid. In any case, the big Shanxi merchants have mostly joined the trading company. What’s left are mostly small fry — how could they be a match for the bank?”

They chatted a bit more, then dropped the subject and turned to discussing the court affairs they had probed.

The imperial commissioner was arriving soon. It was said to be led by Li Banghua, Left Chief Censor of the Chief Surveillance Bureau, and he was bringing rewards from the court. Wang Pu was very interested — what would the court reward him with?

In the Datong Garrison, intelligence was also managed by his trusted general Wang Zheng. Wang Zheng hesitated, unsure whether he should speak.

After Wang Pu urged him again and again, growing impatient, Wang Zheng haltingly spoke.

For a long while, Wang Pu’s expression was strange. Wang Zheng and Staff Officer Tian exchanged sidelong glances, both stealing looks at Wang Pu’s face.

After a long pause, Wang Pu burst into loud laughter, nearly laughing himself to tears. He abruptly stood up and roared, “One hundred taels of silver! Am I, your father, worth a mere one hundred taels of silver?”

He sneered, "The imperial court is too low-end — no wonder it's going downhill day by day!"

Wang Zheng said indignantly, "Indeed. The court is too low-end — how can it compare to the Marquis of Yongning, who is truly generous."

A faint smile appeared on Wang Pu's face. Wang Dou was truly beyond reproach. On the journey back from this campaign, in just a few words, he had clearly delineated all the benefits coming to him.

The distribution of gold, silver, cattle, and horses, participation in trade and commerce — these were mere trifles. What mattered most was the land beyond the border wall: the Fengzhen area, and from Fengzhen stretching west all the way to the vast territory of the former Yulin Guard, all given over for him to manage as he pleased. The only requirement was priority purchasing rights for grain or other crops.

West of Datong Garrison, the Hun River flows out from Pinglu Guard, passes through Weiyuan Guard and the present Yulin Guard, exits through Shahukou, then turns north and west again, flowing all the way into the Yellow River. The lands along the Hun River up to the border wall — Wang Dou had granted all of them to him. A fine, broad stretch of territory.

He thought about how the Wang family, though they held considerable land across Datong Garrison, owned scattered plots — a patch here, a patch there. How could that compare to this continuous expanse of land and pasture? Yet the Marquis of Yongning had not hesitated in the slightest.

Wang Pu abruptly made up his mind: he would deposit all the silver in his cellar into the bank. Truly, there was nothing to worry about. Given Wang Dou's character, would he ever embezzle anyone's silver? And he could count his money in peace and security, sitting back and reaping the profits — was that not a delight?

Thinking of future prospects, Wang Pu rose excitedly. "By the way, what did the Marquis say on the road?"

Wang Zheng said, "It seems the Marquis of Yongning said something like... ah, yes. He said Datong Garrison also has its advantages — it is an excellent place for raw material supply and rough processing of products. He said the common people of Datong Garrison ought to have their fill of food by now."

Wang Pu said, "Indeed, our Datong Garrison truly ought to prosper and flourish. We must forge closer ties with Xuanfu Garrison and the Anbei Protectorate."

……

The swirling snowflakes suddenly turned into goose-feather snow drifting down. From the garrison commander's residence in Xuanfu Garrison came only the sound of abacus beads clacking like a torrential downpour.

A young eunuch was reading a report aloud. The garrison eunuch Du Xun seemed to be listening, yet seemed not to be.

Before him lay an account book. One hand occasionally turned the pages; the other hand never stopped clacking away at the abacus. He did not even look at the abacus, yet every figure was calculated with perfect clarity — like a computer expert of later ages touch-typing blind.

The young eunuch's recitation beside him did not disturb his accounting in the slightest. Suddenly he let out a shriek: "How can two hundred and fifty taels of silver not add up? Where has this money gone?"

The account-keeping eunuch promptly dropped to his knees — a sharp-looking young eunuch.

Du Xun sprang up at once and rained blows upon his head, utterly pained and indignant. "You dare embezzle even my money? The Great Ming realm is being ruined precisely by people like you."

The young eunuch clung to his leg, wailing, "Spare me, my lord! For the sake of my eighty-year-old mother above, and below... below there is none... just spare this slave this once."

Du Xun kicked him away with one foot and sneered, "An eighty-year-old mother above? You are not yet twenty — dare I ask, at what age did your venerable mother give birth to you?"

The young eunuch was struck speechless for a moment, then said, "This slave remembered wrong — it is my grandmother."

Du Xun eyed him sideways. "Grandmother? The age still doesn't add up."

The young eunuch was speechless again and could only plead bitterly.

Du Xun paced the hall with his hands behind his back. "No more to be said. Such depraved practices must be severely punished! You will return at once and make up a fine of five hundred silver dollars to me. If you are short by even one, watch carefully — I will flay your skin off!"

The young eunuch wailed even more miserably. Those around him gloated. This young eunuch had relied on the eunuch's favor to act arrogant and domineering — now he was getting his comeuppance, wasn't he?

At the same time, they were inwardly alarmed. Recently Eunuch Du had developed an addiction to imposing fines — they had better be careful lest they be fined themselves one day.

After driving the young eunuch out, Du Xun ordered his subordinates, "Immediately! Deposit all the silver I keep in the cellar into the bank!"

Everyone around him was stunned. "All of it?"

Though some among them were tempted and intended to deposit a little to try it out, Eunuch Du's grand and decisive manner shocked them.

Du Xun eyed his retinue of followers sideways and sneered, "Look at you lot of miserly bumpkins, utterly ignorant of the bank's brilliance... In consideration of your many years following me, I will give you one piece of advice: if you have silver, hurry up and deposit it all. The earlier you deposit, the more you deposit, the higher the annual interest — far better than toiling away to open a shop... Forget it. I can't be bothered to explain to you. If you understood the principles at work here, it wouldn't be my turn to sit in this army supervisor's seat."

Those around him merely murmured obsequiously. Some were swayed; others were unconvinced. Depositing silver in that so-called bank was tantamount to handing your very lifeline into another's hands. How could that compare to keeping it in your own cellar, tightly hidden, bringing peace of mind and security?

Looking at their expressions, Du Xun let out a contemptuous sneer. "A bunch of pig-heads. A waste of my breath."

He plopped back down, looking at the account book and thinking only of how Wang Dou had finally handed over the silver he had promised earlier — but now the horses he had promised were being dragged out and delayed. That despicable scoundrel, always giving him the runaround. Truly hateful.

……

The snow fell heavier and heavier, soon shrouding the magnificent Grand General's residence. Wen Daxing walked briskly, a document tucked under his right arm, seemingly oblivious to the great swirling flakes of snow beyond the covered corridor. Along the way, at intervals, stood soldiers of the Guard Battalion in gleaming armor, standing erect in the freezing wind.

Since returning from Liaodong, this fierce Night Scout's expression had turned more cold and stern. In this reorganization of the headquarters, he remained the chief officer of the Intelligence Department. The Grand General did not mind his physical impairment — in fact, he took even greater care of him. Whenever he reflected on this, Wen Daxing threw himself into intelligence work with even greater fervor.

Striding along, he gave a slight nod to Master Hu at the doorway and entered one of the vast halls. There he saw the Grand General with his hands behind his back, deep in contemplation before a huge map of Monan on the wall, which also included detailed maps of Shanxi, Shaanxi, and Ningxia.

Maps of the Great Ming, due to the Sinocentric worldview and the influence of the unity of heaven and man and yin-yang orientations, were actually drawn with south at the top and north at the bottom — that is, the north was below and the south above, completely inverted compared to later ages.

Wang Dou had not been used to it at first, but gradually he grew accustomed. In truth, many things were simply matters of habit — just as writing at this time proceeded from top to bottom and right to left, the reverse of later ages. One simply got used to it.

Seeing Wen Daxing enter, everyone in the hall turned to look at him. Among them were Han Chao, Sun Sanjie, Qi Tianliang, and Lin Daofu from the Military Administration Department; Wen Fangliang, Zhong Xiancai, Zhong Diaoyang, Gao Shiyin, and Huang Shibian from the Central Army Department; and Ye Xizhi from the headquarters Secretariat Office, responsible for taking notes.

Wen Daxing could sense that the bearing of these men was different. Although under Wang Dou's influence, most of them had developed their own ideals and goals to strive for, was it not a good thing to hold higher office and wield greater power? Many faces bore expressions of radiant confidence.

Wen Fangliang nodded slightly to Wen Daxing. Wen Daxing had originally been his retainer. After returning from Liaodong, Wen Daxing had lost an arm — how could Wen Fangliang not be distressed? Seeing him still holding high office and in charge of Intelligence Department affairs, how could Wen Fangliang not feel inwardly delighted?

But he was a clever man, and outwardly he remained neither warm nor cold toward Wen Daxing.

Hearing footsteps, Wang Dou turned his head. Seeing it was Wen Daxing, he smiled and said, "Brother Wen has arrived? The weather has turned cold — quickly, sit down and warm yourself. Have a cup of hot tea."

Wen Daxing said, "My thanks, Grand General. I am in no hurry. This is intelligence that has just arrived."

He handed the document to Wang Dou.

Wang Dou took it. At first he was taken aback, his expression somewhat strange. Finally, he burst into loud laughter. "Xuantong? A fine reign title Duoergun has chosen."

He laughed heartily, and at last tossed the document onto the table, sneering, "Heaven itself wills the Qing's destruction. Duoergun brings about his own ruin!" (To be continued...)