Chapter 399: The Yangcheng Lake Night Banquet

Qian Sunhan clasped his hands and said, "I beg my uncle to enlighten me."

Qian Qianyi said, "In winter the water is cold and the crabs are thin. That sea bandit invites us to eat thin crabs to say that we have drained the court and the commonwealth dry. He is using crabs to rap the knuckles of the Jiangnan gentry."

Qian Sunhan suddenly understood: "So that's it. After all, he is of river-and-lake bandit stock, knowing nothing of respect for the cultured. That being so, this Yangcheng Lake banquet — should we go?"

Qian Qianyi toyed with his teacup: "Go — why not go? Since King Xia has resorted to such oblique tactics, it means he has no intention of breaking with us for now. That being so, what harm is there in meeting this King Xia? Go and spread the word to the various houses: for the Yangcheng Lake banquet, every registered gentry member is to attend."

Next, Lin Qian lingered a few more days in Nanjing city, then took his civil and military officials aboard a boat and sailed downstream, entering the Grand Canal at Zhenjiang Prefecture, heading south all the way through Danyang, Changzhou, and Wuxi, straight to Suzhou.

Along the way, fields stretched in unbroken swaths on both banks, mulberry and hemp covering the countryside, cooking smoke curling upward.

Grain barges and cargo boats shuttled back and forth on the river like shuttles on a loom, bow to stern in endless procession, never ceasing from dawn to dusk.

Along the banks, docks and shops stood in dense rows; the cries of porters and boatmen rose and fell with the creak of oars and the lap of water — truly a scene of brocade-like splendor and prosperity.

Lin Qian stood at the prow, gazing at the scene of abundance, yet his heart grew heavier by the moment.

Of this thousand-li expanse of fertile land and ten-thousand-string of wealth, the greater part had gone into the private coffers of the Jiangnan gentry.

The Jiangnan gentry held ten thousand mu of land yet paid not a single li of tax, instead shifting the entire tax burden onto the shoulders of common folk, grinding the land of fish and rice into a watery hell for the little people. The thought of it truly wrung one's heart with grief.

The day after arriving in Suzhou, Lin Qian held a banquet by the shores of Yangcheng Lake, sending fishermen to haul more than a hundred jin of crabs from the lake — all thin winter crabs. Around dusk, guests arrived one after another and entered, and the company took their seats by host and guest order.

This feast followed official banquet protocol with individual tables; guests were led to their seats by ritual officers according to prestige and rank.

The Jiangnan gentry sat in the eastern row, headed by Qian Qianyi, Xu Yuanpu, and Dong Qichang, descending in order; the Great Xia officials in attendance sat in the western row as companions. Each table stood three chi apart, and on each table was already laid a set of shadow-blue glaze wine vessels, a square of plain silk napkin, and beside them a small pot of Shaoxing yellow wine warming.

Seeing this arrangement, the gentry could not help but feel somewhat constrained.

Entering the hall, the company first bowed from afar toward the host's seat. Lin Qian, seated behind his table, raised a hand in a gesture of restraint and said in a deep voice, "No need for such ceremony, please be seated." Only then did the gentry take their seats according to rank, and servants lowered cotton curtains to block the cold wind off the lake, while Dongning charcoal in the hall spread warmth through the room.

The main course of hairy crabs had not yet been served; first came four cold dishes, which servants carried on vermilion lacquered trays to each table.

They were: wine-lees white fish, Suzhou soy-sauce duck, dressed winter bamboo shoot slivers, and a dish of pickled cabbage hearts — not extravagant, yet each dish exquisite and full of flavor. After three rounds of wine, Lin Qian exchanged a few pleasantries of the occasion, and the gentry gradually set aside their wariness and enjoyed the feast.

Lin Qian set down his yellow wine cup and watched the company with cold eyes.

Ran Qiu, behind Lin Qian, held a small notebook and checked off names one by one, reporting the guests' identities in a low voice.

"Your Majesty, the first seat on the eastern side is Xu Yuanpu, patriarch of the Xu family of Songjiang, a descendant of Xu Jie, Chief Grand Secretary of the Jiajing reign. This man is the leader of the Jiangnan gentry... That one is the Dong family, also from Huating in Songjiang; its patriarch Dong Qichang is famed as a master of both painting and calligraphy, but in truth his family fortune far exceeds his art." "This is the Zhou family of Yixing; its clan head is Zhou Yanru, the previous Chief Grand Secretary of the Ming court."

Hearing this, Lin Qian looked up at the man — he was richly dressed, wearing a plain-colored Dongpo cap, with three long beard strands trimmed neatly. It was indeed Zhou Yanru, former Chief Grand Secretary of the Ming.

Seeing Lin Qian's gaze, Zhou Yanru rose, clasped his hands, and solemnly bowed.

Ran Qiu said, "Among the gentry present, the Zhou family has the shallowest roots but the fastest-expanding landholdings. On the fish-scale registers of Changzhou Prefecture, the Zhou family holds nearly one hundred thousand mu of land and has never paid a single tax."

After all, Zhou Yanru had held the office of Chief Grand Secretary — even if he openly refused to pay taxes, no one dared to discipline him, and local officials would even take the initiative to cover for him. This is what is called the ways of the world.

Ran Qiu continued, "Seated at the fourth eastern seat is Gu Yumu, son of Gu Xiancheng. Under the name of Donglin purity, he amasses wealth extravagantly; among the common folk of Yixing he is called 'Tiger Gu.'"

"The fifth seat is Qian Qianyi, a native of Changshu in Suzhou by ancestry. He uses his official connections to attract land donations and holds countless acres. Because his reputation is so great, no official in Jiangnan dares to touch him."

Ran Qiu chattered on for a good while, commenting on every gentry member present — great gentry had great gentry's methods of land annexation, small gentry had small gentry's tricks of tax evasion. Listening to it all, truly not one of them was any good.

Lin Qian's expression gradually turned cold, and he commanded, "We've shown them enough good cheer. Bring out the main course."

"Yes." A serving maid at his side acknowledged and withdrew to relay the order.

Before long, two servants carried in a large copper basin together, filled with steaming dark-red crabs piled into a peak, hot vapor carrying the aroma of crab rushing forth. Other servants carried plain porcelain plates, dividing the crabs into portions of four per table, setting them before each guest's table one by one.

The moment the crabs landed on the tables, the gentry's expressions all turned subtle, and even their voices dropped considerably.

When they first received Lin Qian's crab banquet invitation, many gentry had not taken it to heart.

For Jiangnan had a method of keeping crabs alive in well water, which could lock in the roe and fat, allowing one to eat plump, delicious crabs even in winter — though the price was extremely high, affordable only to the wealthiest households.

The gentry had assumed that given Lin Qian's status, he would treat them to well-water crabs. They never imagined the crabs were truly just hauled fresh from the lake.

They were all Jiangnan men who had eaten crabs for half their lives; one touch of the fingertips told them the quality — these were genuinely out-of-season thin crabs.

Beside the thin crabs sat a small dish of ginger vinegar, a pinch of perilla leaves to ward off cold, and a set of small copper crab crackers and picks — all the customary utensils for eating crab, with not a single point of etiquette missing.

Lin Qian surveyed the room and said with a smile, "Don't just sit there staring — dig in."

So saying, he pried open a crab. The shell's roe and fat were sparse, the meat shrunken, not even filling the shell; the meat he laboriously picked out gave less energy than he expended getting it.

The gentry exchanged glances. Only after seeing Lin Qian eat did they reluctantly begin, frowning as they ate the thin crabs.

Though inwardly they cursed Lin Qian for his crudeness and ignorance, an insult to refinement, on the surface they still dared not defy King Xia.

Lin Qian pinched half a broken thin crab between his fingertips, casually set it on the white porcelain plate, and swept his gaze across the assembled gentry. Only after every one of them had grimly eaten their crabs clean did he speak unhurriedly.

"You are all famed houses who have lived in Jiangnan for generations, eating fat crabs all your lives. You must surely know that in the ninth and tenth months the roe is full and the meat fat, but by the winter month, only an empty shell remains.

No doubt in your hearts you are all cursing me for being ignorant of elegance, a crude and boorish sea bandit."

These words hit the mark. A few minor gentry, in their agitation, inhaled crabmeat into their windpipes — wanting to cough but not daring to, their faces turning red from holding it in. Lin Qian continued: "This is just like the fish-scale registers of Jiangnan's fields. On paper, the registered good land is no less than a million mu, yet in reality not even two-tenths of the tax can be collected. Is this not precisely a big shell with empty meat?

If this continues, Great Xia too will be drained dry of blood and flesh by these hollow taxes!

Today I have invited you all here to discuss how this land survey should be carried out, and to settle this muddled account!" Lin Qian had only mentioned the survey, not the exemptions — in fact, he was saving face, not wanting the matter to spread too wide. If the gentry agreed, what would be abolished was only the excess exemptions; the full exemptions would remain.

As his words fell, the hall fell into dead silence.

Lake wind rustled the cotton curtains; the tableful of hairy crabs still steamed with heat, but no one touched their chopsticks. The clan representatives wore varied expressions, and for a time no one spoke. All the gentry's gazes fell on Xu Yuanpu — he was the foremost power, his influence deeply entrenched; only after he spoke could the others venture to talk. Xu Yuanpu took a sip of wine, rose unhurriedly to bow, his expression composed: "Your Majesty's rectification of the tax system is a good policy benefiting the state and the people. My clan has no reason whatsoever to oppose it.

It is only that Songjiang's land disputes are numerous and tangled, spanning a hundred years; the fish-scale registers are riddled with errors and incomplete, and fraudulent registrations and land donations have been passed down generation after generation, involving small households and tenant servants too numerous to count.

A sudden survey would disturb the locality and might instead breed chaos.

Now that the new dynasty has just begun, with a thousand matters clamoring for attention, why must the land survey be rushed?

In my humble opinion, it would be best to first examine the old registers, proceed step by step, and allow us to sort through our landholdings one by one before compiling new registers for reporting. Only thus can it be done safely without mishap." The moment these words were spoken, gentry immediately echoed: "Well said! Master Xu's words are the mature counsel of experience."

Lin Qian understood perfectly: Xu Yuanpu's words were full of agreement, but in truth he was saying "not 'don't survey,' but 'survey slowly, survey late, survey on a schedule'" — buying time to transfer landholdings and smooth over connections.

Lin Qian did not expose him for the moment.

Then Gu Xiancheng's son Gu Yumu rose, clasped his hands, and said with an air of righteousness: "Your Majesty's abolition of the excess exemption abuse, clearing the source and rectifying the stream, fills me with deep admiration. Only... the flames of war in Jiangnan have just been extinguished, the chaos has only just subsided, all trades lie withered, and the people's strength is exhausted. This is precisely the time to let the people rest.

A sudden survey at this moment would let petty clerks seize the opportunity to make trouble, burdening the people's livelihood and adding to the chaos.

Moreover, preferential treatment of the gentry is the ancestral instruction of Emperor Taizu, meant to encourage scholarship and honor refinement. If it is recklessly pared away, I fear it will chill the hearts of scholars throughout the realm. The scholar is the finest of the people; if the scholars' hearts are lost, the people's hearts will not remain either. I fear this would wound Your Majesty's noble intent to seek good governance, and I humbly beg Your Majesty to think thrice."

This whole string of words, put plainly, meant one thing: Lin Qian was right, but he, Gu Yumu, would not change — and not changing was also out of concern for the people, out of worry for the state. One could say he had perfected the art of sanctimonious selfishness and shamelessness.

Many gentry chimed in with "Well reasoned" and "Seconded," and some praised Gu Yumu for his deep family learning, quite possessing his father's style.

When Qian Qianyi and the others had said their fill, he rose slowly. He was the leader of the Jiangnan literati, his weight far beyond that of ordinary men, and the moment he stood, the hall fell completely silent.

"Your Highness used the thin crab as a metaphor to lay bare the deep ills of Jiangnan. This commoner is deeply impressed and full of admiration.

The Ming court's national strength withered precisely because the gentry engrossed land, leaving the treasury empty. This is a lesson from the overturned cart ahead.

Great Xia has just been founded; rectifying the tax system is a far-reaching strategy for governing the state. We commoners, as sons of Jiangnan, how could we possibly obstruct it?"

The surrounding gentry immediately chimed in like straight men in a comedy act, repeating "Indeed, indeed."

Qian Qianyi shifted his tone: "Only, a century of accumulated ills cannot be removed in a single day. If done abruptly, the people's hearts will inevitably be thrown into panic.

In this commoner's humble view, why not grade and rank them, granting exemptions according to rank and scholarly standing, and carry out the land survey in three batches — first the gentry, then the wealthy commoners, and finally the small households. This way the law is not abandoned, yet the people's hearts are settled. The gentry of Jiangnan will surely be grateful for Your Highness's magnanimity and cooperate fully."

Lin Qian gave a cold snort inwardly. This move was retreating in order to advance — on the surface agreeing to the land survey, but demanding that Lin Qian set exemption quotas in exchange. As long as the exemptions remained, as long as the system remained, the gentry would always have ways to conceal their fields.

And this so-called three-batch survey was also leaving room for them to transfer their land holdings.

When the gentry were surveyed, they'd transfer fields to the wealthy households; the wealthy would transfer to the small folk; and finally it would all transfer back to the gentry.

This kind of paperwork trickery was precisely what the Jiangnan gentry excelled at.

The officials of Great Xia were all newly arrived, unfamiliar with the conditions of the prefectures and counties. If it truly came to a game of hide-and-seek, how could they possibly be a match for these local snakes? For a moment the hall was filled with voices of agreement, and the stagnant atmosphere relaxed slightly. The gentry flattered one another, and the air was thick with a merry mood. Zheng Zhilong spoke with grim menace: "By now you must all know — recently Ruan Dacheng incited the literati to obstruct the land survey, and he has already been dealt with according to law. His list of concealed and proxy-held properties is still in my hands.

The land survey is imperative. Those who cooperate voluntarily will have all past abuses overlooked; those who comply in appearance but defy in secret — for the Great Xia army to deal with them is but a matter of a single word. Weigh it carefully yourselves!

Don't wait until the blade is at your throat before you know regret!"

The banquet atmosphere stiffened. The gentry whispered among themselves, never having expected Zheng Zhilong to put things so bluntly.

After a long while, Lin Qian called out by name: "Dong Zongbo."

"This old man is here." At the banquet, Dong Qichang rose unsteadily. He had once served as Minister of the Ministry of Rites, hence the title "Zongbo."

"On my way here, I heard people speak of some tale from Songjiang — something about the people doing what? It seemed to concern your esteemed household? What was it called again?" At these words, the expressions of every gentryman present became extremely interesting to behold.

Dong Qichang, already past seventy, broke out in cold sweat, his frame trembling slightly.

The matter Lin Qian spoke of was called "The People's Burning of the Dong Official" — a story from the Wanli era. At the time, the Dong family was already a great gentry household of the region. Dong Qichang's son, relying on his power and influence, openly gathered over a hundred household slaves, brazenly broke into commoners' homes, and seized young women by force.

When Fan Chang, a government student of Huating, learned of this, he wrote a satirical story mocking the Dong family.

Dong Qichang's son had Fan Chang seized and killed through private torture. When Fan Chang's wife and mother came to demand an explanation, they were subjected to the humiliation of having their trousers stripped and being violated, and the naked women of the family were dragged out into the streets for public display.

The affair instantly ignited public outrage. The streets and alleys of Songjiang city were plastered with denunciatory posters. Scholars and commoners gathered together, forcibly stormed the Dong mansion, and burned to ashes the carved railings and painted beams along with all of Dong Qichang's treasured antiques and paintings.

That was what happened.

Later, when the authorities investigated the case, they gave both the people and the Dong family fifty strokes each, and the matter was quietly dropped.

From that time on, Dong Qichang's reputation among the Jiangnan literati plummeted. For a scholar-official, reputation was a protective talisman.

If Great Xia rashly moved against the Xu family or the Qian family, the scholars of Jiangnan would surely object. But if they moved against the Ruan family or the Dong family, the scholars might well applaud. At this very moment, Lin Qian bringing up this topic again was a naked threat.

Dong Qichang understood Lin Qian's implication and clasped his hands: "Your Highness, this old man believes the tax abuses of Jiangnan have festered for too long and should have been rectified long ago. My humble clan has received the state's grace for generations, and naturally should lead by example.

Upon returning home, this old man will immediately order a full inventory of the clan's landholdings, compile a register, and submit it to the authorities. All taxes and grain will be paid according to the new system — I dare not conceal so much as a fraction." This counted as pledging allegiance to Great Xia.

Lin Qian's gaze swept over the gentry again, and he saw that quite a few already appeared hesitant.

The Ming gentry were all shrewd operators. Lin Qian had already killed two chickens — the Ruan family and the Dong family — and his intent could not be more obvious.

Whoever insisted on holding out would follow the Ruan and Dong families down the same path.

Of course, the gentry also harbored thoughts of luck — that the law could not punish the multitude, and if everyone resisted taxes together, even the Xia King would not dare do anything to them. But at this critical juncture, no one dared to be the bird that stuck its head out first.

After a moment, the gentry could only resign themselves to fate, one after another expressing willingness to accept the land survey and to register their household landholdings for submission.

Only then did Lin Qian reveal a satisfied smile, beckoning the gentry to take their seats as the banquet continued.

But having been threatened and forced to spend silver to buy peace, what appetite for feasting did the gentry have left? All sat glum and silent, each nursing his own worries. They barely endured until the banquet ended, then took their leave as if fleeing.

The gentry rested one night in Suzhou city, and the next day each returned to his own home.

That night, the clan heads among the gentry gathered together to discuss their countermeasures.

Handing over their privileges, they were unwilling; openly defying the Xia King, they dared not. Thus all found it a headache.

The gentry argued for a long time without reaching a resolution. Turning their heads, they saw Qian Qianyi by the lamplight, holding Lin Qian's "Essay of Sacrifice to the Filial Tomb of Emperor Gaozu, the Great Ancestor of Ming," studying it intently. Xu Yuanpu said: "Vice Minister, we only have this one night to meet. The fire is already licking our eyebrows — how can you still be reading that useless document?" Qian Qianyi said darkly: "It is said that when a king reforms governance, he does not change the orthodox way. What is the orthodox way? The ancestral instructions of the Great Ancestor. Since the Xia King wants to be lord of all under heaven and rule by the kingly way, we shall use the Great Ancestor's instructions to press him!"

Xu Yuanpu said: "It's useless. Vice Minister, you heard what Governor Gu said at the banquet yourself. That sea bandit, when pushed to the wall, will send troops and use force. Truly, a scholar meeting a soldier!"

Governor Gu was Gu Yumu. Gu Yumu had served as Prefect of Kuizhou, hence the elegant title "Governor."

Qian Qianyi pointed at a passage in the sacrificial essay and read aloud: "I humbly recall the ancestral instructions of the Great Ancestor: take the people as the root, take official governance as the essential. Now in the lands of Jiangnan, corvée and taxes are uneven, the powerful engross land, and the small folk are displaced — this greatly departs from the ancestors' intent of loving the people.

Great Xia's military might is at its zenith; it need not fear the combined resistance of great clans, but it does fear losing the hearts of scholars and the common people.

If the land survey stirs up widespread grievance among the folk, and scholars and commoners become estranged and disaffected — tell me, can the Xia King bear such a reputation?" All the gentry fell into thought. Xu Yuanpu suddenly understood: "Vice Minister's meaning — is to mobilize the lower-ranking scholars?"

Qian Qianyi smiled: "Exactly. Great Xia wants to survey the land from the top down — we shall give them one from the bottom up!

Great Xia wants to measure the fields — we shall multiply them twofold and measure fiercely, dragging all of Jiangnan's century of accumulated ills and stale old debts out onto the table at once."

At this point, the words were already quite explicit. What needed to be done was clear to every gentryman's mind.

Among the gentry, Dong Qichang had not voiced his position. Qian Qianyi said: "Dong Zongbo?"

Dong Qichang answered distractedly: "Vice Minister."

Qian Qianyi's words carried a barb: "This matter concerns the very survival of the Jiangnan literati. Dong Zongbo is of high virtue and great prestige — you absolutely must not shrink back when the moment comes."

After hesitating a moment, Dong Qichang clasped his hands: "How would I dare."

Qian Qianyi smiled without speaking. In the latter half of the night, the gentry finished planning the details, and the next morning each returned to his hometown.

Having settled his official business, Lin Qian accompanied his family sightseeing in Suzhou.

Ye Zhen spent her days traveling by carriage and horse, touring all the famous sites of Gusu, and at night was tormented by Lin Qian — exhausted, she complained endlessly.

Lin Shaoyuan, meanwhile, did his lessons in all sorts of different places, his face full of resentment.

Three days after the Yangcheng evening banquet, the various government offices of Jiangnan posted the land survey regulations.

They proclaimed two major provisions: "No pursuit of past arrears" and "Self-reporting exempts from prosecution."

Put plainly, it was urging the great households to obediently report their true landholdings, with past tax debts forgiven.

Doing so admittedly could not punish these shameless gentry, but it maximally reduced conflict and facilitated the implementation of the policy.

On the eastern shore of Yangcheng Lake lay a village called Beiyantou.

The village had only forty-some households, mostly semi-self-sufficient farmers and tenant peasants. The Shen family lived at the east end of the village and was counted among its most honest households. The head of the family, Old Third Shen, was forty-two this year, a native-born Beiyantou man. The farthest he had ever traveled in his life was the market town. He was honest enough to squeeze water from.

His household included his wife, his elderly mother, a son and a daughter, plus over thirty mu of land passed down from his ancestors. Life was tight, but they managed to get by. That evening, after banking soil around the wheat seedlings and returning from the fields, he saw the village constable and elders gathered under the big locust tree at the head of the village, talking. "I hear the Great Ming has been beaten and driven off. Now we're subjects of the Great Xia."

"Is that so? How does this Great Xia emperor compare to the Great Ming emperor? I hear that under Great Xia's rule, there's no Liaodong levy—is that true?"

"That I wouldn't know. I only hear the officials are making trouble again—this time they want to survey and measure the land."

"This... this time, will the survey be like before, just going through the motions, or..."

"Don't know. Sigh!"

"Oh! Old Third's back? Eaten yet?"

"Not yet, heading home to eat." Old Third Shen smiled and returned the greeting, then his face fell.

His family held a total of thirty-two mu seven fen of land, of which eleven mu four fen were hidden fields—land his father had donated to the Xu family of Songjiang to evade the surcharges of the Liaodong levy.

Master Xu had connections reaching to heaven. The previous land surveys by the authorities had never uncovered these hidden fields. He wondered whether they'd pass this time without trouble. Thinking this, he reached his home and saw from a distance that the courtyard gate stood open, with faint sounds of crying and arguing coming from within.

Old Third Shen's blood rushed to his head. Grabbing his hoe, he charged inside, only to find Xu Zhong, the estate steward of the Xu household, standing in the courtyard with two young servants. His wife was tugging at the steward's sleeve, pleading desperately, while his son, eyes red, gripped a sickle.

His elderly mother shielded the young daughter behind her, weeping silently.

Seeing it was the steward, Old Third Shen's momentum deflated by half. He put away his hoe, stepped forward with a bow, and squeezed out a fawning smile: "Master Xu, what's the matter? Wasn't this autumn's rent already collected?"

The so-called "rent" was the fee for the hidden fields, paid directly to the Xu household—far less than the court's regular taxes and miscellaneous levies.

In recent years, the Three Surcharges had been collected with increasing ruthlessness, and the Shen family had many mouths to feed. If not for the hidden fields, the Three Surcharges would long ago have squeezed them down to nothing but bone dust. Steward Xu Zhong said: "Old Third, you're back at last! Here! This is your tenancy deed—returning it to you."

Old Third Shen lowered his head to look. The deed read: "Eleven mu four fen of commoner farmland at the east end, with a middleman's agreement, leased to the Xu household of Songjiang Prefecture as its property," and at the bottom was his father's fingerprint seal.

It was precisely the tenancy contract for his dozen-odd mu of hidden fields at the east end of the village.

Tenancy was the legal form of hidden fields.

Old Third Shen nominally sold his land to the Xu household to escape taxes, but in reality he still farmed it himself.

Panic seized Old Third Shen's heart. He dared not take it, only saying: "Th-this... what does this mean? I, I, I... I haven't fallen behind on rent." The steward was somewhat surprised: "You don't know yet?"

Old Third Shen's heart sank. He already had a guess, but kept up a dumb look on his face: "What?"

"The new court is going to survey the land. This time they mean business—my master can't protect these hidden fields anymore.

Keep the deed yourself. Whatever the officials measure out, that's how it'll be reckoned.

But I'll say the ugly truth up front: the donation was your family's own choice. If there's beating or punishment, you bear it yourself. Don't drag the Xu household into it. Otherwise, you know our methods."

Old Third Shen was stunned, still refusing to take the deed.

The steward tossed the deed to the ground, then left with his two young servants.

His wife couldn't stop the steward. She fell to the ground and cried out shrilly to Old Third Shen: "Head of the household! You can't let Master Xu leave, you can't! If the hidden fields are found out, they'll be confiscated with double penalty! Even if we lose everything we own, we won't have enough to pay!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen