Chapter 397: Paying Respects at the Xiaoling Mausoleum, A Night Cruise on the Qinhuai

Lin Qian took the military expansion plan and flipped through it. After a long while, he said, "Let's discuss this after I return from the northern inspection tour."

The expansion plan was premised on Jiangsu and Zhejiang dutifully paying their taxes. If Lin Qian's trip went poorly and Jiangnan still couldn't collect its taxes, then there was no point in talking about military expansion at all.

Lin Qian then attended the general staff meeting, where Xu Fengjie reported on the war situation in Sichuan and Hubei, as well as the circumstances of Li Zicheng and Hong Taiji.

Overall, the situation was unfavorable to the Great Ming on every front. The northern situation was deteriorating further, and the fall of the Ming dynasty was not far off.

After nightfall, Lin Qian returned to his residence.

With military campaigns going smoothly across the realm and governance stable, all miscellaneous affairs were being handled in perfect order by Ye Xianggao, so Lin Qian had little to occupy him and could come home for dinner every evening.

These past few days, the evening meals at the residence had been varied with new dishes. As maritime shipping grew ever more unimpeded, goods in Guangzhou city became abundant, and the dinners grew increasingly lavish. Before the meal, while waiting for the servants to set the table, Ye Zhen said with a gentle smile, "Yuanger has made great progress in his studies lately. Take a look."

Lin Qian turned his head and saw Ye Zhen holding several pieces of homework. Setting aside the quality of the content, the small regular script alone was already quite accomplished, carrying a hint of a master calligrapher's bearing — far better than the brushwork Lin Qian had labored over for years.

Lin Qian took a towel from Yue Yi, wiped his hands, and accepted the homework to examine it carefully.

The first piece was a calligraphy exercise, that is, copying practice — the model being Wang Xizhi's *Huangting Classic*.

On the exercise sheet, characters circled in red ink by Xu Guangqi with the mark "excellent" accounted for three-tenths, and every inferior character had a marginal comment beside it, such as "the stroke ending should be slower" or "the structure leans slightly off."

After that came commentaries on the classics, excerpts from historical mirrors, and drafts on mathematics and the investigation of things.

Among them, for the history excerpts lesson, the textbook used was the *Emperor's Mirror Illustrated*, a book Zhang Juzheng had specially compiled for Wanli as the official enlightenment textbook for the Eastern Palace. It collected both positive and negative anecdotes of wise and benighted rulers through the ages, richly illustrated, designed specifically to cultivate a young sovereign's ability to govern the realm — ordinary children could never get their hands on it. Because the book was so well made, Ye Xianggao had specially copied out a volume from the palace before retiring from office, and now it was just right for cultivating Lin Shaoyuan. This was yet another benefit of basking in the Chief Grand Secretary's reflected glory.

Lin Qian looked through the assignments one by one and said with a smile, "Not bad."

Yue Yi laughed: "The eldest young master must be delighted to receive such praise from his father."

Ye Zhen said, "Take a look at Yinger's as well." So saying, she brought out another stack of homework.

Lin Qian took it and saw the handwriting was neat and orderly. Slightly surprised, he said, "How old is Yinger? Did he really write this?"

Bai Kou said, "The second young master will be five after the New Year!"

Lin Qian was taken aback.

Yue Yi hastily added, "By the nominal-age reckoning, he's not yet three full years old."

Lin Qian examined Lin Shaoying's work closely. It was a hand-copied excerpt from the *Three Character Classic*. Most of the characters were regular and even, with only the occasional stroke childish and crooked, yet there was not a single wrong character or missed stroke of ink — truly rare for a child of that age.

Ye Zhen said softly, "My husband attends to a thousand affairs daily; how could you keep every small household matter in mind? Have another bowl of chicken soup while it's hot, to ease your mind." With that, she gently drew the homework back from Lin Qian's hands.

Lin Qian watched her profile as she tidied the assignments, and his heart stirred slightly.

In the several years since their marriage, Ye Zhen had managed the entire household with thorough care, always gentle and composed. Far from losing her temper or acting willful, she had never even spoken a single word tinged with grievance.

When he had earlier embarked on the distant expedition to Batavia, gone for over half a year, she had single-handedly managed the inner quarters, raised Yuan'er and Ying'er, and her letters back and forth had reported only that all was well — not a trace of resentment.

For husband and wife to stand by each other as such in this world was truly rare.

Before long, the evening meal was fully laid out. Tonight's spread was exceedingly lavish: a pot of chicken soup slowly simmered over low flame, a plate of steamed grouper, steamed blue-shell crabs with a ginger-vinegar dipping sauce, fish maw braised with free-range chicken, a Cantonese-style assorted cured meats steamed together, plus four small dishes of crisp pickled vegetables.

Bai Kou ladled Lin Qian a bowl of chicken soup. Lin Qian took a sip — the broth was clear and mellow, the chicken stewed tender but not falling apart, carrying a clean sweet aftertaste of coconut meat — the authentic slow-simmering technique of Cantonese soup. He praised, "Truly fresh and delicious. Director Zhou of the Qingping Bureau lives not far from our house, doesn't he?"

Ran Qiu replied, "Not far — just three streets away."

Lin Qian said, "Send a pot of this chicken soup over for me. Keep it warm over a low flame; don't let it go cold."

"Yes! I'll pass the word to the kitchen." Ran Qiu answered, then exchanged a glance with Yue Yi — both saw bewilderment in the other's eyes.

After a moment, Lin Qian remarked that the pickled vegetables were good too, and had some sent to Ma Chenglie, who was stationed at Shaozhou.

The three maidservants were all puzzled but simply did as told.

Only Ye Zhen's face flushed slightly, her smile sweet, as she kept adding dishes to her husband's bowl.

A short while later, Ran Qiu, who had gone to deliver the message, returned — holding a brocade box in her hands.

Lin Qian caught sight of it from the corner of his eye: "What's that?"

Ran Qiu said, "This is a package the gatekeeper just received. It was said that Master Yushan had someone deliver it, specially for you, sir. Young Doctor Su examined it — there's nothing harmful inside, just a few books."

Ye Zhen set down her chopsticks, wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, and said, "Master Yushan?"

"Yes. The one who delivered it only said it was from Master Yushan and left no other message."

Ye Zhen pondered intently: "Since this person sent books and writings, he must be a literary gentleman. Yushan is in the Changshu area of Suzhou, so one who would take 'Master Yushan' as his style name should be none other than the foremost literary figure of Jiangnan — Qian Muzhai."

Seeing Lin Qian look at her, Ye Zhen continued, "That is Qian Qianyi. He comes from a distinguished family and gained fame young. During the Tianqi era he served as Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites. In the Chongzhen era he was expected to rise to the Grand Secretariat, but was impeached by Zhou Yanru and Wen Tiren and convicted. Now he lives in retirement in his hometown."

Lin Qian suddenly understood: "So it's that man. It seems he's getting restless now."

With that, Lin Qian had Ran Qiu open the brocade box.

Ran Qiu took out two books. Lin Qian accepted them casually and saw that one was *Textual Corrections to the Veritable Records of the Founding Emperor* — a work devoted to examining the distorted brushwork, concealed taboos, and factual errors in the *Veritable Records of Ming Taizu*, clarifying the founding institutions, party purges, and enfeoffment rewards of the early Ming.

The other was *Muzhai's Selected Poems*, a poetry collection. Lin Qian flipped through it and found the poems were all about reflecting on the times, discussing the world, singing of landscapes, and discoursing on literature and history — nothing of much interest.

Ye Zhen said, "It is indeed Qian Muzhai. Both of these books are in his own hand."

Accompanying the books was a short letter, which read: "I have long admired your illustrious achievements, upon which the literati and common folk of Jiangnan rely. I humbly present a few of my humble works, to while away the leisure of your military affairs—" Lin Qian let out a light chuckle. Qian Qianyi's meaning could not be plainer.

Sending the *Textual Corrections to the Veritable Records of the Founding Emperor* was both flattering Lin Qian and displaying his own ability to govern the state.

Sending the poetry collection was to display his literary talent.

To put it plainly, he too had come seeking office.

The Great Xia currently had no shortage of learned and capable men; there was no pressing need for Qian Qianyi to take office.

Mindful that the Great Xia was about to move against the tax exemptions of the Jiangnan gentry, Lin Qian did not outright refuse. He handed the two books back and said, "Find a place to put them away." "Yes." Ran Qiu took the brocade box to the study.

Ye Zhen knew of Qian Qianyi's reputation and asked, "Does my husband think this man is unfit for service?"

Lin Qian said, "Wanting to serve as an official in the Great Xia isn't as simple as sending two books. In any case, I'll soon be going to pay respects at the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum, and while I'm at it, I'll knock the southern gentry into line. When the time comes, I'll see Qian Qianyi's attitude before deciding what to do.

If he cooperates, then he can be put to work assisting with land surveys and pressing the collection of Jiangnan's taxes.

If he doesn't cooperate, then…"

Lin Qian didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was perfectly clear.

He casually pried open the shell of a blue-shell crab — the roe inside overflowed, glossy and glistening with oil — as if he were lifting the top of Qian Qianyi's skull.

Ye Zhen's bamboo chopsticks paused slightly. She lowered her eyes and stirred the crab vinegar in the small dish, then soon resumed speaking of how quickly Yuan'er was progressing in mathematics, her expression perfectly composed, not the slightest hint of anything amiss.

Having spent so long with her, Lin Qian knew that Ye Zhen had always been quiet and reserved — even if she harbored the sorrow of parting, she would never let it show in her words or expression.

He had been away on the expedition to Batavia for half a year before returning, and had sat in command at Guangzhou for only three or four months; now he was turning around to make a northern inspection tour of Jiangnan. An ordinary woman could hardly avoid words of resentment, yet she had never once spoken of the bitterness of parting, only managing the affairs of the inner household with flawless care.

So Lin Qian thought for a moment and said, "Why not come along, then?"

Ye Zhen was startled and said, "Does Your Majesty truly mean it?"

Lin Qian nodded and said, "Though Jiangnan is newly taken territory, it is guarded by heavy troops and has been very peaceful of late.

On this journey, aside from paying homage at the Xiaoling Mausoleum of Ming, there is nothing of great importance—it happens to be a fine chance for us to travel together.

I hear this is exactly the season when hairy crabs are at their fattest. Would it not be a pity if my lady did not come along to taste them?"

Before Ye Zhen could respond, Bai Kou's mouth was already watering at the mention of hairy crabs, and she nodded eagerly again and again. Yue Yi likewise looked at Ye Zhen with expectant eyes. Ye Zhen nodded gravely and said, "Very well! But your concubine is not going for sightseeing. By ancient rite, the mausoleum-visiting ceremony ought to be performed by husband and wife together, with the consort sharing in the rites—if the king goes alone, the ceremonial form is incomplete."

Lin Qian was slightly taken aback, then said, "Why has no one told me this?"

Ye Zhen teased, "I fear His Majesty's heart is so full of arms and grain that these fine points of ceremony have long been squeezed to the back of his mind."

At this, Lin Qian burst into loud laughter.

The twenty-first day of the tenth month, third year of Zhongxuan.

Lin Qian's entire family and a portion of Daxia's civil and military officials boarded ships at Guangzhou, bound for Nanjing, escorted the whole way by the main force of the North Sea Fleet.

News of Lin Qian's visit to pay homage at the Xiaoling Mausoleum of Ming was kept strictly secret within Daxia's borders, but the scale of the affair could hardly be hidden—nearly a hundred vessels of all sizes put to sea, and Luo Dagu kept the Yangtze River under tight seal the entire time.

It was impossible for the Great Ming not to know of a fleet movement of this magnitude, yet whether it was a naval showdown or an assassination plot, the Great Ming of today could no longer accomplish either.

They could only watch helplessly as Lin Qian sailed into the Yangtze and arrived beneath the walls of Nanjing.

After resting for a day, Lin Qian and his civil and military officials climbed the mountain the next day to pay homage at the mausoleum.

At the third quarter of the hour of Chou before dawn, Lin Qian had already changed into the ceremonial robes of the black gauze cap and crimson silk, and led the accompanying officials and honor guard to arrive at the foot of Bell Mountain.

Lin Qian dismounted at the Great Golden Gate and entered the mausoleum, performed the bowing salute before the Stele of Divine Merit and Sagely Virtue, walked past the stone statues along the spirit path to the Sacrificial Hall, and in due order performed the rites of Welcoming the Spirits, Offering the Silk, the First Libation, the Second Libation, and the Final Libation.

Every single ritual followed the regulations of the Great Ming, with ceremonial officers prompting at every step—when to walk, when to stop, how many bows to make—all fixed by rule, not the slightest detail neglected.

In truth, Lin Qian's mausoleum visit was a performance. So long as he came in person, he could send a political signal to the realm, and the words he wished to speak to the world through this sacrificial rite had long since been written up in the form of a sacrificial address, to be published to all once the ceremony concluded.

So how he comported himself during the ceremony did not actually matter in the least—all he needed was to go through the motions like a puppet on strings.

After the rites in the Sacrificial Hall were complete, Lin Qian changed into black round-collar daily robes, ascended the square citadel and Bright Tower to bow once more toward the Treasure Mound. Ye Zhen stood at Lin Qian's right hand, half a step behind; Lin Shaoyuan stood at Lin Qian's left, his position half a step further back than his mother's.

In the Sacrificial Hall, when Daxia's civil and military officials witnessed this scene, their hearts were at last set at ease.

Before this day, Lin Qian had not yet established a heir apparent, and everyone had only addressed Lin Shaoyuan as the Eldest Young Master.

Though Lin Shaoyuan was the eldest legitimate son, his position had never been fixed, and anxieties and speculation were unavoidable.

Today Lin Shaoyuan accompanied Lin Qian in the joint sacrifice—the position of heir apparent was now self-evident. With the foundation of the state settled, all the ministers breathed a sigh of relief.

Outside the Great Golden Gate, the gentry of Jiangsu and Zhejiang had already gathered in a crowd, all with composed expressions and bated breath, standing in attendance on both sides of the imperial way.

Around the hour of Chen, a ceremonial officer descended from the mountain and publicly distributed hand-copied copies of the "Sacrificial Address to the Tomb of Emperor Gao of the Ming."

The assembled gentry vied to pass the copies around and read them.

The language of the sacrificial address was extremely concise. It first affirmed Zhu Yuanzhang's achievements in restoring China.

It then spoke of the late Ming's collapsing discipline and the dire state of eunuch misrule, emphasizing the righteousness of Daxia's raising of arms to replace the Ming.

Finally it set out Daxia's governing program, with particular emphasis on "rectifying officialdom, surveying the fields, equalizing corvée and taxes, and abolishing oppressive governance."

After the assembled gentry finished reading, their expressions varied greatly.

After a moment, the gentry member at the very front spoke up impatiently: "Your Majesty has founded a new dynasty with achievements that cover the world, and your arrival in Jinling today has made the whole city shine! This commoner owns a villa by the banks of the Qinhuai River, complete with pavilions and waterside terraces. My household troupe has newly rehearsed several scenes of Kunqu opera, and servants and attendants are all in readiness. I wish to offer it to Your Majesty as a temporary lodging, to fulfill the duties of a host!"

The moment these words were spoken, the officials and gentry around him wore expressions of disgust.

Someone said in a low voice, "That's... Ruan Dacheng?"

"This remnant of the eunuch faction actually came as well?"

In his early years, Ruan Dacheng had been a disciple of the Donglin Faction, but later he threw in his lot with Wei Zhongxian's eunuch faction and even fabricated the "Chart of a Hundred Officials" blacklist to frame the Donglin partisans. Later, when Chongzhen ascended the throne and purged the eunuch faction, Ruan Dacheng was stripped of office and reduced to commoner status, and came to Nanjing to live in idle retirement.

Though this man had lost his official position, he still held jinshi status, and his family was enormously wealthy, his connections extensive, and his extravagance without limit—he was thoroughly despised by the gentry of Nanjing. Seeing that Ruan Dacheng had also come to observe the ceremony, the surrounding gentry all felt contempt and withdrew several paces from him.

Another elder with graying hair and beard stepped forward and said, "I have long heard that the King of Xia is learned and refined, and my heart is filled with admiration. This old man humbly resides in his native place, and possesses a few scrolls of famous works from the Song and Yuan dynasties. I have prepared coarse tea at my villa west of the city, and venture to request that Your Majesty spare a moment to grace it with your presence, to appreciate paintings and discuss calligraphy, and thereby ease the toils of your journey."

At these words, the surrounding gentry recognized the elder—it was none other than the world-renowned Dong Qichang.

This man had earned his jinshi in the Wanli era, and thereafter rose step by step until he reached the post of Vice Minister of Rites. When factional strife grew ever fiercer in the Tianqi court, he withdrew at the height of his career and retired to his hometown. Only last year had he been recalled by the court and appointed Minister of Rites.

But because of his advanced age and frail health, he did not regularly attend his post, often traveling between the Nanjing offices and his home in Songjiang, with most government business delegated to his subordinates. It was for this reason that he had escaped disaster when Daxia besieged Nanjing.

Among all the gentry, Dong Qichang was not only a veteran of three reigns with high position and great power, but his calligraphy and painting were peerless—he was the universally acknowledged elder of the scholarly world, a living signboard of the literary realm and the ceiling of official-gentry standing.

Dong Qichang was extremely protective of his reputation; all mundane social dealings were handled by the younger members of his household. This direct and public invitation was a first for him. Seeing that even Dong Qichang had set aside his pride, the surrounding gentry surged forward, all scrambling to play host and feast Lin Qian.

In the crowd, Qian Qianyi wanted to speak but feared losing his scholarly integrity, and was hesitating. Now that the local gentry around him were all surging forward with invitations, he had even less chance to get a word in.

The Daxia ceremonial officer merely raised a hand to quiet the clamor of the gentry, then said, "The sacrificial rites are complete, and state affairs are set aside for the moment. Gentlemen, each of you may return to your own affairs—there is no need to remain in attendance, nor to call upon us at our lodgings."

At these words, the expressions on the gentry's faces varied—some were startled and uncertain, some deeply disappointed, and others let out a long breath of relief.

Most of the gentry refused to accept this. They waited in place for a long while, and at last saw Lin Qian's party descend the mountain. They tried to step forward and strike up conversation, but were blocked by the personal guards, and could only watch helplessly as Lin Qian boarded his carriage and departed.

Only then did the gentry disperse one after another.

As Ruan Dacheng was about to board his carriage, he spotted several familiar faces and clasped his hands in greeting: "Vice Minister Qian, Lord Dong."

Qian Qianyi glanced at him sidelong, gave a cold snort, and strode away.

Dong Qichang did return the greeting, but rather coldly.

Ruan Dacheng took no offense, and boarded his carriage saying, "Back to the residence. In the next few days, tell all the stewards inside and outside the city to keep their wits about them—on no account stir up trouble at this critical moment." "Yes, sir," the steward outside the carriage replied.

Ruan Dacheng thought for a moment, then added, "What have those poor scholars of the Fushe been up to lately?"

"Most are preparing for next year's autumn examination—Daxia's autumn examination."

Ruan Dacheng considered this and said, "Spend more silver. Now that the King of Xia is in Nanjing, let those poor scholars say more favorable things—who knows, some phrase might just drift into the King of Xia's ears."

The steward bowed outside the carriage and said, "This one understands. When xiucai sit for examinations, silver, grain, and writing implements are always in short supply."

"This time we cannot do things on a small scale. Send more, and invite them to feast at the Stone Nest Garden."

"Yes, master."

The Lin Qian family returned from Xiaoling, and it was only just past noon. The three of them had been going since the early hours of the night before, and were already thoroughly exhausted. After a simple lunch, they all rested, sleeping straight through until just before dusk before getting up.

Lin Qian suggested going out for a stroll.

But although Lin Shaoyuan had come for the memorial ceremony, he was not exactly on holiday—he still had to finish the coursework assigned by Master Xu before he could go out.

Lin Qian and Ye Zhen changed out of their fine clothes, dressed as ordinary folk, and first took a turn around the Confucius Temple, eating authentic Jinling salted duck, duck-blood vermicelli soup, and Zhuangyuan beans until Little Black's belly was round as a ball.

On the surface the two of them brought only one attendant and four close maidservants, plus one little black dog—but in truth, every passerby within twenty paces was a disguised guard.

Wherever the two went, the crowd buzzed with noise—quite a spectacle in itself.

Leaving the Confucius Temple, they came right to the bank of the Qinhuai River.

The ten li of Qinhuai stretched before them, its blue waves rippling, river houses built along both banks at the water's edge, with carved railings and embroidered window screens, wine banners and tea shop streamers fluttering in scattered array.

As the sky darkened, lanterns beneath the eaves lit up one after another, their warm glow reflected on the water's surface, shattered by the wind into scales of gold across the whole river.

Already a few painted pleasure boats drifted slowly across the river, and from them came faint strains of strings and flutes and the clear singing of courtesans—soft Wu dialect melodies spreading out with the sound of the water, an indescribable scene of charm and splendor.

Lin Qian said: "Since the Six Dynasties, night boating on the Qinhuai has been the foremost elegant pastime of Jinling. We've come at just the right time—let us also take a boat and drift along, to see this fine Jiangnan scenery. Geng Wu, go hire a small painted boat."

Both banks of the Qinhuai were lined with river houses, taverns, music troupes, and shops selling paintings and calligraphy, open all day without cease. This had given rise to a business of renting painted boats—not only did boat owners rent directly from the shore, there were also rental brokers, and business was so brisk that boats had to be booked in advance.

Lin Qian had no reservation, but he had no shortage of silver, and reckoned hiring a boat would not be difficult.

Ye Zhen looked around and said: "We've left Brother Yuan at the administrative office while we come to enjoy the Qinhuai River—that hardly seems right."

Lin Qian grinned mischievously: "What would a child do on a painted boat? Better he sleep early. Besides, some matters are more convenient to handle when he's not aboard." Ye Zhen's face flushed crimson in an instant, and she scolded softly: "What nonsense are you talking."

The two waited a long while, but no painted boat appeared—instead, the sound of an argument drifted over from where boats were being rented.

Lin Qian was in excellent spirits today and did not want to spoil the mood, so he gave Ranqiu a look.

Ranqiu understood at once and went over to handle it.

But before she even arrived, the clamor only grew louder.

Someone shouted: "Rules? On the Qinhuai River in Nanjing, my Ruan family's word IS the rule.

The boatmen on both banks, the customs officials at the docks—which of them doesn't show my Ruan family some face?

Who do you think you are, daring to spoil my fun?"

Then another voice said: "The court supports us scholars precisely so we can live with dignity.

Never mind that the Third Young Master is paying—even if he simply seized a paltry painted boat, what could you do about it? Even the Prefect of Yingtian treats the Third Young Master's uncle with courtesy. Who are you—a boat broker and a stinking soldier—to meddle in the Ruan family's affairs?

Let me tell you, if you truly anger the Third Young Master, tomorrow you'll be floating down the Qinhuai!"

Then it seemed Ranqiu said a few quiet words, and the two scholars immediately fell silent.

A moment later, Ranqiu and Geng Wu walked back and reported that the painted boat had been properly hired.

Lin Qian gazed at the surface of the Qinhuai and asked: "What was that just now?"

Geng Wu said indignantly: "The boat broker had only one painted boat left, which I had just rented, when two drunkards pickled in cat piss came fighting over it, with a pack of hired thugs in tow. What rotten luck—ah."

Ranqiu stepped on Geng Wu's foot and said with a smile: "Just two drunken scholars making a scene—I've already sent them off."

Having said this, she turned back and glared at Geng Wu, who wore a face full of grievance.

Just then, the painted boat drifted slowly over.

The boat was over three zhang long, its hull painted in vermilion lacquer. The central cabin was spacious and open, with a lofty Kun tower, carved with interlocking lotus vines and cloud patterns. Four horn-shaped glass lanterns hung from the eaves, giving it an exquisite and elegant look.

When it came alongside the shore, the boat barely swayed at all—truly a far cry from ordinary sea vessels and grain barges.

Lin Qian helped Ye Zhen aboard, then turned back to Geng Wu and said: "Those two scholars—invite them along as well."

The word "invite" was spoken with great emphasis.

Geng Wu said: "Right away."

Ranqiu fumed inwardly: "Idiot! Ruining the lord and lady's good time!"

Lin Qian had Ye Zhen go first into the painted boat's Kun tower, then had a chair brought out and sat on the bow deck. The two scholars were brought aboard, and the smell of alcohol could be detected from a distance.

When they were brought close, Geng Wu barked: "Kneel!"

Though frightened, the two scholars stubbornly refused to kneel. One of them even craned his neck and said: "I am Ruan Zuyin—my uncle is Ruan Taichang. I am a man of the Ruan household. If anyone should kneel, it should be you soldiers kneeling to us!"

Ruan Taichang was Ruan Dacheng, so called because he had once served as Junior Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices.

Geng Wu flew into a rage: "You seek death!" He raised his arm as if to strike—with his skill, one slap would have knocked the scholar senseless.

Lin Qian said: "No violence."

Ranqiu whispered in Lin Qian's ear from behind: "I did not reveal Your Majesty's identity—those two only take us for commanders of Great Xia."

The two scholars had been startled by Geng Wu's sudden outburst, but seeing that he did not actually strike, they recovered some of their arrogance.

Perhaps having detected the out-of-town accent of Lin Qian and his men, and worried they had never heard of Ruan Dacheng's name, the other scholar said with bluster masking his fear: "We both hold the xiucai degree, and in the future we will both sit the imperial examinations, enter officialdom, and govern regions. You are but a common soldier—even if we cannot make trouble for you, we can make trouble for your family! Release us at once!"

His words were not empty threats. Although the Great Ming had rules requiring officials to serve away from their home regions, officials of different prefectures and counties would still help one another with matters that could not bear the light of day. This was the custom of officialdom—as long as the request was not too outrageous, help was generally given, both to collect a favor owed and to hold a handle over one's colleague. Over time, as everyone held leverage over everyone else, they all muddled along together, and their official positions were secured.

Lin Qian's face showed nothing, but anger burned in his heart. These two had not even become officials, yet they were already using family connections and status to run roughshod. If they actually passed the examinations, would they not become nothing but worms and rats in the grain sack?

Though he felt the gentry of Jiangnan should be handled with soft measures, he could not be utterly without limits, soft all the way through. All along the journey he had been pondering which great family to make an example of—to kill the chicken and warn the monkeys.

Ruan Dacheng was of the eunuch faction, notorious for evil, and naturally despised by the Jiangnan gentry. To strike at him would not easily rouse the hostility of the entire gentry class—was he not the most suitable chicken?

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen