Chapter 398: Listening to Tunes at the Stone Nest, Raiding the Ruan Residence

Lin Qian had made up his mind, and pretended not to believe it, saying: "Great Xia is not like Great Ming—how can it tolerate such insolence from the likes of you?"

Ruan Zuyin saw that Lin Qian's tone had softened, and grew even more emboldened: "On both banks of the Qinhuai River and at the Shuixi Gate docks, which household doesn't give my Ruan family three parts of face? What is Great Xia? Once you reach Nanjing city, you still have to do things by our rules!"

While Ruan Zuyin bragged about his family standing, Lin Qian whispered a few words to Ranqiu. Ranqiu pulled a small notebook from his bosom—inside were all the dirt on the gentry of Jiangnan. Ranqiu picked out the dirt on Ruan the Elder and told Lin Qian.

Lin Qian said: "I hear that Ruan Taichang uses the jinshi tax exemption privilege to act as a tax-avoidance broker in Jiangnan, with concealed landholdings across multiple prefectures totaling over ten thousand mu.

Even the tax barriers along the Qinhuai and the Yangtze are held in the Ruan family's grip.

There's also the service of brokering lawsuits and petitioning officialdom on others' behalf—for one word of intercession, at most ten thousand taels, at least a hundred. Is this true?"

Lin Qian's question was blunt, but his tone was not severe. To Ruan Zuyin, with the liquor fogging his brain, it sounded more like seeking instruction than interrogation.

"Of course it is! My uncle merely resides in retirement for now—the Xia King has long been known for seeking talent, and sooner or later he will invite him out to govern.

You'd best show this young master some respect. In the future, whatever lawsuits or disputes over money and grain you might have, so long as my uncle says one word, you'll be safe and sound."

Lin Qian continued: "Ruan Taichang has also forcibly seized farmland and shops, and lent money at usurious rates, profiting over ten thousand taels."

Ruan Zuyin laughed: "All small change, compared to——"

The lackey scholar beside him was already drenched in cold sweat from fear, half-sobered, and frantically tugged at Ruan Zuyin's sleeve.

"What are you afraid of? They're just a few stinking soldiers. What harm can come from telling them? If Great Xia wants to hold Jiangnan firmly, it cannot do without my uncle."

"So you're saying your uncle also has dealings with the Jiangnan officialdom? Who are they? Tell me their names." Lin Qian's tone carried a chilling edge.

"What are you, that I should tell you?" Even in Ruan Zuyin's drunken state, he sensed something amiss.

Who hears of the Ruan family's power and, instead of being afraid, digs for the roots of the matter?

Lin Qian shot Geng Wu a look. Geng Wu had long been itching for this—he stepped forward at once, seized Ruan Zuyin's arm, twisted it, and immediately pressed him down onto the deck.

Ruan Zuyin's cheekbone slammed hard against the deck; his face and shoulder blazed with pain. He burst into tears on the spot and shrieked: "How dare you——ah——"

With a crisp crack of breaking bone, Ruan Zuyin's finger suddenly erupted in agony. He cried out miserably, snot and tears flowing together.

His right pinky had been snapped clean off by Geng Wu.

"My uncle——ah——"

"Stop, stop breaking——ah! Fuck you——ah!"

Geng Wu moved fast and viciously. In the blink of an eye he had broken four fingers, and Ruan Zuyin, his tears, snot, and cold sweat smeared into one mess, was banging his head against the deck without cease.

Lin Qian had come out this trip in plain clothes, so Geng Wu had not made a move when renting the boat. After being humiliated by Ruan Zuyin, he now finally had his chance to get even—how could he let it go? No matter what Ruan Zuyin said, he just kept breaking.

By the time four fingers were broken, Ruan Zuyin was in too much pain to even cry out.

Geng Wu still did not stop. He broke his thumb, then grabbed his left hand, and said coldly: "Now do you know who your grandpa is?"

Ruan Zuyin's voice trembled, his breath as faint as a thread: "Good sir, spare my life, spare me——"

The lackey scholar beside him was already dazed with terror. Seeing Lin Qian's gaze shoot over, he dropped to his knees without a word and kowtowed.

He banged his head against the deck with booming thuds until his forehead showed blood, yet still did not stop.

Lin Qian said calmly: "I hear Ruan Dacheng has a large estate south of the city?"

Ranqiu pulled out the notebook, flipped through it, and said: "It's near the Kusi Fang district in Nanjing, not far from the Qinhuai River. It's called the Stone Nest Garden."

Geng Wu stood up, looked around, and said: "We're not far now."

Lin Qian said: "Summon the Yingtian Prefect and the Yingtian Garrison Commander to come here, and dispatch a battalion of soldiers to surround the Stone Nest Garden."

Geng Wu gave an order to his personal guards. In a moment, a guard found a small boat and went ashore to deliver the command.

The guards had long accompanied Lin Qian on campaigns north and south—all of them highly skilled, adept in both naval and land combat. They simply leaped straight from the pleasure boat onto the small skiff.

With such force, the skiff only sank a bit into the river, splashing up some spray. The boat did not capsize. Then the guard took up the oar, and the skiff darted toward the shore like a fish.

Lin Qian strolled slowly to Ruan Zuyin, looked down at him from above, and said: "If Great Xia wants to hold Jiangnan firmly, it cannot do without your uncle?"

"This little man was spouting nonsense—please, good sir, be lenient——" Ruan Zuyin, his courage utterly shattered, kowtowed again and again.

But he was in so much pain he could barely move, and could hardly rise. So he lay prone on the deck, kowtowing with his face, his movements like a dying fish flopping about.

Lin Qian laughed: "You weren't spouting nonsense at all. Great Xia truly cannot do without your uncle."

"Huh?" Ruan Zuyin did not understand what Lin Qian meant.

Lin Qian said in a low, eerie voice: "This king shall go and borrow your uncle's family estate for a use!"

A little over half an hour later, the boat reached the vicinity of Kusi Fang. From afar they could see a lamplit garden, with the faint sound of strings and flutes drifting over—it was the Stone Nest Garden that Ruan Dacheng was building.

Lin Qian ordered the maidservants and guards to escort Ye Zhen back to the administrative headquarters. He himself led his men ashore and walked slowly through the streets and alleys. Ruan Zuyin was dragged along behind like a dead pig, supported by two men; the joints of his right fingers were already swollen, twisted, and deformed—the mere sight of them was enough to make one feel phantom pain.

The lackey scholar, though not tortured, now knew who he had offended. He trembled violently all over, and a stream of yellow liquid ran down his trouser leg.

When they reached the front of the garden, they saw several hundred garrison soldiers already standing outside holding torches, surrounding the Stone Nest Garden in a tight ring.

Seeing Lin Qian arrive, several civil and military officials hurried forward.

The one at the lead clasped his hands and said: "Your subject, Huang Zongxi, Prefect of Yingtian, pays respects to Your Highness the King."

The military officer beside him said: "Your subordinate, Ma Bingzhong, Garrison Commander of Yingtian Prefecture, pays respects to Your Highness the King."

Both were old acquaintances of Lin Qian—one was a top-rank jinshi from the first special examination of Great Xia, and the other was Ma Chenglie's eldest son.

Lin Qian said: "What is the situation inside the residence?"

Ma Bingzhong said: "When your subordinate led troops to surround the residence, Ruan Dacheng had invited over a dozen impoverished scholars of the Fushe. The household was in the midst of feasting and merrymaking. Except for a few nephews and juniors who had gone out, nearly everyone in the residence was present."

Huang Zongxi added: "Your Highness, from a rough check by the prefectural office a few days ago, Ruan the Elder's landholdings amount to nearly twenty thousand mu, with over two hundred merchant ships and several dozen shops—the vast majority of which were donated and registered under his name, profiting by helping others evade taxes."

It was now the end of the tenth month—the very time for collecting the autumn tax.

Great Xia had abolished the Liaodong levy and corvée labor, so the autumn tax amount was already very low. But based on the total land of Zhejiang and Zhili, the tax revenue should still be over a million taels.

Yet from the conquest of Zhejiang and Zhili up to now, the total taxes collected by all provincial and prefectural offices combined was less than fifty thousand. Part of this was because newly appointed officials were not yet familiar with the practical work.

But more of it was due to the effects of scattered apportionment, concealed registration, and donated holdings.

Jiangnan had been little affected by the flames of war, and the fish-scale land registers, yellow registers, red calendar books, and household allocation certificates at each prefectural office were all quite complete—but the records on them were severely distorted, almost entirely untrustworthy.

Some small households held only a few thin mu of land, growing just enough grain to fill their stomachs—yet the fish-scale register claimed the man had twenty mu of good farmland.

And if one attempted to survey and measure the land, the large households with contiguous fields had plenty of ways to stall and obstruct.

Nanjing had only recently been taken, and Huang Zongxi's tenure was even shorter; in such a brief span, grasping the situation to this degree was already no small feat, let alone enacting reform.

As for the means by which the great households of Jiangnan resisted taxation, Lin Qian had a rough understanding of them—one could say they exhausted every cunning and evasive trick imaginable, manipulating the rules to their very limit.

Even if Huang Zongxi possessed heaven-reaching, earth-piercing abilities, sorting out the land and ending the chaos would still waste several years of his time.

Great Xia's talent could not be squandered on such meaningless internal attrition. What the pen cannot solve, let the blade settle!

Lin Qian said: "Enter the residence. Search and seize!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Ma Bingzhong acknowledged, signaled his men, and ten soldiers brought up a battering ram, slamming the gates open directly. Soldiers then poured into the residence like a tide.

From within the residence came a shout: "How dare you! Which yamen are you from? Do you know where this is? You dare—"

This was followed by several muffled grunts, along with the sounds of guards collapsing to the ground, and then no one spoke again.

After a while longer, shouts came again from the front courtyard: "Soldiers and bandits have entered the house! A disgrace to scholarship, truly a disgrace to scholarship! Who is your squad leader?"

"Gentlemen soldiers, why must you resort to such force? What exactly has happened?"

"Are you blind? This is Shicao Garden, the Ruan residence! The master of the house, Ruan Taichang, back in the day—Ouch!"

Before long, a soldier came out of the residence to report. After listening, Ma Bingzhong went before Lin Qian and said: "Your Majesty, it has been cleaned up. Please enter the residence."

Lin Qian went inside and saw the gatekeeper and guards of the front courtyard sprawled all over the ground. Soldiers stood guard at every door and passage, while the household servants all knelt on the floor, trembling in fear.

Walking all the way to the side courtyard, the moment he entered he saw a massive stone-built opera stage. The stage was brightly lit, and several actors in costume with slicked-back, powdered faces knelt upon it.

Before the stage was a large spread of tables and chairs, with tea and refreshments set out upon them. The air carried a smell of wine, though no meat or drink was in sight—evidently the feasting had ended and they had moved on to watching the opera.

The guests who had been watching the performance were all detained to one side of the courtyard.

Lin Qian swept his gaze across them—mostly young scholars, many already drunk to the point they could barely stand.

One of the scholars, seeing Lin Qian enter, shouted: "In broad daylight, forcing your way into a private residence—what kind of justice is this? Which law has Ruan Taichang broken? Soldiers and bandits! A pack of soldiers and bandits!"

"Silence!" Ruan Dacheng shouted at him from the side, then turned a fawning gaze toward Lin Qian.

He had seen the Xia King just yesterday morning—though only from a distance, the figure before him matched perfectly in build. This man was undoubtedly the Xia King.

Ruan Dacheng had spent his life excelling at seizing opportunities and reading the times; how could he fail to see which way the wind blew and bark like a mad dog?

Lin Qian said flatly: "Search!"

Ma Bingzhong immediately had his soldiers split up and get to work, while Ruan Dacheng begged for mercy repeatedly.

Lin Qian simply pretended not to hear, seating himself before the stage. Finding the wait dull, he casually pointed at a soldier: "Go ask what this play is called."

Ran Qiu said: "It is 'Spring Lantern Riddles.'"

Lin Qian was slightly surprised: "You know even this?"

Ran Qiu smiled with lips pressed together: "This play is very famous in Jiangnan. It only spread to Guangzhou a few months ago, and the Lady enjoys watching it very much too."

Lin Qian laughed: "Is that so? Have those on stage perform it for us."

The soldier went to relay the order, and moments later the actors began to sing. The play was in the Kunqu style, yet not a dry, purely literary piece—rather, its rhythm was crisp and brisk, interspersed with folk performances such as dragon lantern processions, masked acrobatics, and storytelling ballads, lively and vivid.

The plot on stage told the story of a talented scholar and a beautiful maiden meeting by chance on the Lantern Festival, followed by a series of comedic misunderstandings—the staging was rather entertaining.

Even Lin Qian found himself smiling knowingly from time to time.

Behind him, soldiers came and went, hauling stack after stack of account books and correspondence to pile on the ground. Huang Zongxi led his yamen colleagues in examining the accounts on the spot, the clatter of abacus beads nearly drowning out the gongs and drums.

The actors on stage sang: "What a pitiful night, mooring briefly at Huangling Temple. The faint moon and river's sound churn, twinkling star-lamps amid bitter bamboo in spring, as if a river goddess laughs—"

A soldier entered carrying an account book wrapped in silk cloth: "Your Honor, these were found from a hidden compartment in the study!"

After a moment, the scholar on stage drawled in theatrical tones: "Fire begets silver trees, riding the wind scatters rosy clouds. Falling to earth without sound or trace, blooming across the flowers of Shangyuan. The answer to the riddle should be fireworks."

The maiden on stage suddenly understood, clapping her hands in praise.

Another squad of men charged into the courtyard below the stage: "The Qingping Bureau's Yingtian Office is here on official investigation—all unrelated persons stand aside!"

Geng Wu said irritably: "Stand aside my ass—that's His Majesty! Shut up and do your jobs!"

"Your Honor, this stack was found from under the bed in the master bedroom!"

The Xia army had risen from sea banditry and excelled at searching out valuables, and since the Qingping Bureau's founding, it had investigated and seized no fewer than thirty or forty corrupt officials' residences.

With the two forces enforcing the law together, and Lin Qian personally overseeing the scene, the net of justice was truly vast—tightly woven with not a single gap.

Seeing his home turned upside down, Ruan Dacheng broke into a sweat, frantic as an ant on a hot pan. He exhausted every plea, both honeyed and desperate, yet the surrounding soldiers showed not the slightest reaction.

Seeing the Xia King seated in the place of honor, watching the play with evident delight, he clutched at it like a lifeline and hastily said: "That play was written by me! Let me come attend upon you—I still have three new acts in my hand!"

No soldier paid him any mind. But Ruan Zuyin, catching sight of his uncle, grabbed at him as if he were a lifeline and shouted: "Uncle, save me!"

Ruan Dacheng turned his head and saw his nephew and one of his cronies held in custody by the Great Xia soldiers. Looking at his nephew's right hand, already twisted like a chicken claw, joints bruised and swollen purple, a chill of terror ran through his heart.

He suddenly understood Lin Qian's intention—he was going to make an example of the Ruan family!

"It's over, it's over, it's all over—" Ruan Dacheng wailed inwardly.

His hopes of reinstatement, the Ruan family's estate, his dramatic artistry—all of it was finished!

The impoverished scholars who had been invited to the feast still could not see the situation clearly, prattling on endlessly, quoting the words of the sages to condemn the Great Xia army's brutality and speak up for Ruan Dacheng.

But to Ruan Dacheng's ears, they were clearly roasting him over an open fire.

His mind raced through a hundred calculations, until finally he called out in a clear voice: "Xia King, this commoner has something to say!"

"Shut up—don't disturb His Majesty's enjoyment of the play!" one of the personal guards barked.

Ruan Dacheng paid it no mind and continued in a loud voice: "This commoner wishes to confess his crimes!"

Hearing the commotion, Lin Qian called for the actors to stop, then said: "Bring him up."

"Yes!" Geng Wu acknowledged and dragged Ruan Dacheng before him.

Ruan Dacheng immediately knelt and said: "Your Majesty, this commoner is guilty. I evaded land taxes, concealed commercial levies, and failed to discipline my household members strictly. I am willing to pay back the evaded silver in full and surrender half my landholdings to the state. I am also willing—willing to write a confession notice to be posted in every prefecture and county of Nanjing—"

Scholar-official families valued face above all else, and even a remnant of the eunuch faction like Ruan Dacheng was no exception. He would rather throw away all shame to preserve half his landholdings—truly a money-grubber to the bone.

At these words, several of Ruan Dacheng's sons cried out in succession: "Father, you can't! You can't!"

"Father, at worst we confess everything—what do we have to fear—"

"All of you, shut up!" Ruan Dacheng roared at his sons.

Lin Qian stared at him, turning things over in his mind. After all, this was only the third day since arriving in Nanjing, and having just paid respects at the Xiaoling Mausoleum, killing a man now would be far too ruthless a move.

Lin Qian was not afraid of killing one Ruan Dacheng—he was afraid that after Ruan Dacheng was killed, the remaining scholars and gentry-officials would mourn the fox's death when the rabbit dies, and be forced into a solid bloc, united against the court.

At that point, the Great Xia regime would be hoisted onto the stage: if they did not strike hard, it would not suffice to demonstrate the majesty of the law; but if they struck too hard, they would follow in the footsteps of Li Zicheng and the Manchus.

Moreover, most of Ruan Dacheng's crimes were committed under the previous dynasty, and this dynasty should not delve too deeply into them; when Nanjing submitted, he had also been one of the first to welcome surrender. Punishing him too harshly would inevitably give the impression of killing the donkey after it has finished grinding—which would likely discourage the empire's gentry from submitting their allegiance, and would be detrimental to the northern expedition.

So Lin Qian said: "Hand over the inventory of the landed estates you hold on behalf of the various great families of Zhejiang and Zhili, and I will spare you the death penalty."

Ruan Dacheng's body trembled, and he stammered: "Your—Your Majesty, what do you—"

Lin Qian smiled a half-smile: "Don't understand? I'm talking about the landed estates that others have fraudulently registered under your name.

Under the Ming court's tax-exemption regulations, gentry exemptions only apply within their own native county. When officials and gentry from other provinces acquire land in Nanjing's prefectures and counties, they're not allowed to register it under a local big shot like you to reduce their tax burden, are they?"

Lin Qian had dared to choose Ruan Dacheng as the chicken to behead before the monkeys precisely because he had long been prepared—the whole convoluted scheme of gentry fraudulently registering land under others' names had long since been thoroughly figured out by Lin Qian.

Because Ruan Dacheng had been classified as part of the eunuch faction, his political prospects were already utterly bleak. But with his jinshi status, his talent for scheming and currying favor, and his notoriously foul reputation, the officials and gentry had no fear he would bite back—so they registered all their landed estates near Nanjing under his name.

This way the officials and gentry preserved their spotless reputations, and Ruan Dacheng earned his brokerage fees—a win-win.

Moreover, the pure-stream faction and the eunuch faction were so entangled that each had members in the other's camp, so future court attacks wouldn't be to the death either—achieving yet another multi-sided win.

"This—" Ruan Dacheng immediately broke out in a sweat like rain. As the white-glove intermediary for the officials and gentry, his most important professional ethic was never to betray his clients. He was caught in a dilemma.

Lin Qian did not urge him, simply waiting quietly nearby.

Before long, a soldier entered the courtyard carrying a ledger.

"Director, we found this hidden in the rockery of the back garden—it's a cipher ledger."

Ruan Dacheng's expression grew even more panicked.

A so-called "cipher ledger" was an account book written in code. The methods for creating such codes included using obscure characters or the Thousand Character Classic to substitute for numbers and account names; writing with alum water or rice gruel that only became visible when soaked in water or held over fire; and marking amounts through added or subtracted strokes and special circled notations.

This kind of cipher ledger was practically standard equipment for corrupt officials. The Qingping Bureau had seen plenty of them, and deciphering them was not difficult—it just took time.

After a long internal struggle, Ruan Dacheng finally said: "Your Majesty, I am willing to hand over the estate inventory—"

Geng Wu stepped forward and extended his hand. Ruan Dacheng said: "If you would be so kind as to bring me paper and brush—this is recorded in this humble one's memory."

Geng Wu fetched paper and brush.

Ruan Dacheng picked up the brush and dipped it in ink, his fingertips trembling. A hand that usually wrote crisp, upright official script now wrote increasingly crooked lines, until by the end he could no longer even control the brush strokes.

Geng Wu took it to the Qingping Bureau for verification, and then the crisp sound of abacuses rang out. Across the entire open courtyard before the stage, no fewer than a hundred people were working abacuses, each with a whale-oil lamp at hand, illuminating the courtyard as bright as day.

Ruan Dacheng's ledgers were too numerous to calculate in a short time, so Lin Qian had the opera troupe resume their performance on the stage.

Amid the clicking of abacuses and the gongs and drums of Kunqu opera, the sky gradually lightened.

Around the hour of Mao, Huang Zongxi brought the ledger before Lin Qian and said: "Your Majesty, a rough calculation has been completed. Under the Ruan household's name, fraudulently registered estates include two thousand mu from the Dong clan of Huating, one thousand eight hundred mu from the Qian clan of Yushan, one thousand five hundred mu from the Gu clan of Wuxi—"

Lin Qian took the ledger and gave it a rough glance. Nearly all of Jiangnan's top-tier power brokers had shown their faces in the Ruan household's accounts—the higher the official rank, the more land fraudulently registered.

For instance, the Dong clan of Huating was Dong Qichang's family—they alone had fraudulently registered two thousand mu, the largest of all the great households.

Then there was the Qian clan of Yushan, which was Qian Qianyi's family. That bastard looked all moral and upright, but in truth he was birds of a feather with the eunuch faction.

And since Ruan Dacheng only held the jinshi degree, the tax exemptions he could claim in name were limited, so he would take the land others had fraudulently registered under him and split it into a thousand scattered small plots, registering them under the names of self-cultivating peasants, making the peasants pay the taxes—this was called "scattering and sprinkling."

In the end, legally speaking, the Dong clan of Huating's land belonged to the self-cultivating peasants, but the profits went to the Dong clan of Huating. Ruan Dacheng earned his commission, and the taxes were paid by the poor peasants.

This whole scheme had thoroughly mastered the Ming dynasty's land tax system—the Yellow Registers, the Fish-Scale Maps, the lijia registration books, the Red Tax Rolls, the tax payment notices—all had corresponding alterations made. Even if the court came to investigate, they would absolutely find no loophole in the paperwork.

It truly took someone like Lin Qian, who could see past the convoluted schemes on paper and cut straight through the tangle with a sharp blade, to get to the bottom of it.

And this was only the Ruan household alone. As far as Lin Qian knew, virtually every gentry member in Jiangnan did the same.

Moreover, this was only the land tax. Ruan Dacheng also had a unique talent for helping people evade customs duties, ship tonnage taxes, and stall taxes.

Huang Zongxi produced another account book and continued: "Your Majesty, according to the Ming court's Red Tax Rolls and tax settlement records, Ruan Dacheng also has thirteen thousand taels of accumulated arrears from past years that remain unpaid."

Ruan Dacheng's head sank a few degrees lower.

Lin Qian laughed in anger: "So you mean to say you haven't paid a single coin of tax to the court."

Ruan Dacheng raised his head and squeezed out a fawning smile, saying: "The Ming court's laws and discipline have collapsed, and its officialdom is benighted and muddled. This humble one has long been disheartened.

This—this humble one was unwilling to offer his hard-earned substance to corrupt officials. Now that Your Majesty has received Heaven's mandate and purified Jiangnan, this humble one submits with heartfelt admiration. From this day forward, I shall pay all taxes in full, not a single coin short!"

Lin Qian said: "And what about the arrears?"

"The arrears—" Ruan Dacheng's flesh ached until his liver trembled. He glanced up at Lin Qian and saw that Lin Qian's gaze was like a blade—cold and sinister, as if it would pierce straight through him.

Ruan Dacheng's openly recorded arrears alone amounted to thirteen thousand taels. When the fraudulently registered lands, scattered plots, and back payments for other tax categories were all factored in, the total sum was extremely enormous.

Exactly how much it came to would still require calculation by the Yingtian Prefecture office and the Qingping Bureau, but confiscating all of Ruan Dacheng's property would certainly be achievable.

If Ruan Dacheng agreed, his entire household would be cast out onto the streets; if he refused, his entire household would lose their heads.

He could still tell which was heavier—money or life.

Ruan Dacheng finally lowered his head and said in anguish: "This humble one is willing to pay the arrears in full."

Lin Qian rose with satisfaction: "You write opera scripts quite well. From now on, abandon any thoughts of politics and settle down at your desk composing music—that can serve as your means of making a living."

"Yes!" Ruan Dacheng knocked his head against the ground.

With that, Lin Qian departed. The impoverished scholars who had registered their names were also released, but the personnel from the Yingtian Prefecture office and the Qingping Bureau did not withdraw—there were simply too many ledgers and letters to examine, and it would take a long time.

After Lin Qian's footsteps had faded into the distance, Ruan Dacheng rose to his feet, weeping bitterly. His gaze swept across the courtyard and landed on Ruan Zuyin.

"Uncle—" Ruan Zuyin called out timidly.

Ruan Dacheng ground his teeth and said: "You accursed brat! Bring out the family discipline!"

A servant brought a rattan cane as thick as a thumb. Ruan Dacheng personally wielded the instrument of discipline and lashed Ruan Zuyin savagely. Before long, wails and howls like ghosts crying and wolves screeching filled the courtyard.

Under Huang Zongxi's on-site supervision, Ruan Dacheng's confession notice was delivered to Lin Qian's field headquarters that very afternoon.

After receiving the notice, Lin Qian said to Ran Qiu: "Send word to the greater officials and gentry of Jiangnan, telling them that in one month's time, this king will host a banquet for them by the shores of Yangcheng Lake—to eat crab!"

"Very well." Ran Qiu agreed, then hesitated slightly: "Your Majesty, a month from now will be nearly the twelfth month—hairy crabs will be somewhat past their season.

Director Zheng has already ordered more than ten catties of crab prepared in Nanjing—all top-grade lake crabs full of roe and fat. They're being kept in ceramic vats with freshly drawn well water, changed daily, waiting only for Your Majesty's arrival to be steamed on the spot.

If Your Majesty wishes to eat them, I'll have Uncle Chen prepare them."

Lin Qian smiled and said, "I know. Let's just treat the gentry and officials to these out-of-season crabs. Go."

Most of the Jiangnan gentry had not yet left Nanjing, so the next day they received letters from Lin Qian.

These people were trembling with fear and full of deference to his face, but the moment they turned around, they mocked Lin Qian as a country bumpkin who didn't understand the prime season for enjoying hairy crabs.

In the cold of winter, hairy crabs stop eating and enter hibernation; their roe, paste, and meat all shrink, the flesh turns loose and dry, and you can barely taste anything but crab shell in your mouth.

Qian Qianyi, however, received the invitation and appeared lost in thought.

His cousin's son Qian Sunhan sneered, "The King of Xia rose from the marshes after all — crude and unlettered. Only someone like that would do something as absurd as eating crabs in the twelfth month."

Qian Qianyi frowned and pondered for a moment, then gave a cold snort and said, "This move of the King of Xia's carries deep meaning!"

Yahei

Pink Round

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