Chapter 400: Suzhou's Temple of Lament

In every dynasty, when fields were re-surveyed, hidden acreage was fined and confiscated several times over. In the Wanli years, there was a precedent in the neighboring village of a household with hidden fields being raided and their property seized.

Shen Laosan and his wife had no idea at all about Daxia's new rule of "no retroactive pursuit of old arrears, self-reporting brings immunity."

Daxia's field-survey policy had only just been decided and had not yet been delivered to the county, let alone publicized to the villages.

Hearing his wife's words, Shen Laosan immediately panicked and clung to the estate steward's leg, refusing to let go.

The estate steward snapped at him: "Let go! Keep making trouble and I'll go report you to the authorities right now!"

At those words, Shen Laosan and his wife finally released their grip.

The estate steward straightened his clothes, gave a cold snort, and stormed out the door.

Shen Laosan said dejectedly: "Father! Father! You've ruined me! I should never have transferred my land to the Xu estate to dodge those taxes!"

His wife also wept: "We've brought down a catastrophe on ourselves now!"

His young daughter said: "Father, don't rush to cry. We're not the only household in the village with hidden fields. Tomorrow, go ask the other families what they plan to do first." At that time, transferring land to powerful households was all the rage in Jiangnan, and nearly every family had hidden fields.

Shen Laosan wiped his tears, thought to himself that this made sense, and helped his wife to her feet. The family ate dinner and went to sleep in anxiety. Early the next morning, Shen Laosan carried a few taels' worth of coarse tea and went to the village head's home to probe for news. Several other household heads from the village came along as well. After the village head invited them all inside, he sighed and came straight to the point: "I know what you've come to ask about.

I've heard the new court means business this time. Never mind folks like us—even the great clans can't withstand it.

Master Ruan of Nanjing city—have you heard of him?"

Everyone nodded together, and Shen Laosan nodded along too, pretending to understand what he didn't.

"A man of his standing had his household raided and property confiscated. They pursued his tax arrears all the way back to the Jiajing years. He had to shed a layer of skin before he managed to keep his life. Ai... the big households of Changshu, the Taicang treasury, and Kunshan are all selling off their family property now, preparing to pay their back taxes.

Among our villages, whoever has hidden fields had better figure out a solution quickly—don't drag the whole village down with you."

Someone asked in a trembling voice: "What if... what if we can't pay the arrears?"

The village head paused for a moment, then said coldly: "Your family is ruined, and you die."

Everyone panicked completely and begged the village head to think of a way. After much pleading, the village head said with great reluctance: "I still have some connections in the county yamen, but it takes silver to grease the wheels—one tael of silver per mu of land."

"Ah?" Everyone was taken aback. They had been squeezed dry by the Three Surcharges for so long—how could they possibly produce that much silver all at once?

The village head sighed: "If it truly can't be done, then the only option is to sell the land. But at a time like this, no one dares to buy land... Ai! When will the court stop its meddling and give us a way to live? Ai!"

Shen Laosan walked out of the village head's door in a daze. On his way back to the village, he happened to run into Mr. Wang, who taught at the village school, apparently just returning from town. Shen Laosan hurried after him to ask about the situation.

Mr. Wang said: "This field survey was announced by the Provincial Administration Commission with the official seal stamped on it—it can't be faked. Once hidden fields are verified, the land is confiscated to the public coffers, and the person is pursued for the arrears."

"Ah?" Shen Laosan was so frightened he stood frozen like a wooden chicken. The estate steward, the village head, and Mr. Wang had each spoken more terrifyingly than the last.

Shen Laosan said in a trembling voice: "Mr. Wang, didn't you say before that Daxia was a good court that spoke for the people? You said once Daxia came, our good days would begin... How... how..."

Mr. Wang's expression turned awkward, his gaze darted away, and after a dry cough he said: "Er... it's true that Daxia speaks for the people—but are you one of the people?"

Shen Laosan was confused: "Three generations of my ancestors have been farmers. How am I not one of the people?"

"Daxia helps people shed their slave status, abolishes tenant farming, and lets the lowly boat people come ashore. It's those base households and slave households who count as 'the people' under Daxia. You have land—you even have hidden fields. You're clearly a landlord!"

"I'm a landlord?"

"That's right. Let me ask you—have your hidden fields ever paid taxes?"

Shen Laosan shook his head.

"Have you heard about what happened to the Ruan household of Nanjing?"

Shen Laosan nodded again.

"Master Ruan doesn't pay taxes, and you don't pay taxes either. In the eyes of the court, aren't you just the same as Master Ruan?"

Shen Laosan tugged at his hair in agony and asked in despair: "Mr. Wang, you're an educated man. Save me—what am I supposed to do?"

Having said this, Shen Laosan knelt directly on the ground and wept: "From the Wanli years to now, my family has had eleven mu and four fen of hidden fields, and we've underpaid taxes for over ten years. Land tax, corvée levies, the Three Surcharges—all added together...

I can't make it up. I truly can't make it up even if I sell off everything I own!

The tax money I saved—I didn't keep it! I gave it all to the Xu estate! Why doesn't the court go collect from the Xu estate? Why must it come beat and kill me? Mr. Wang, save me—I'll kowtow to you..."

Not far away, the Xu estate's steward learned of Shen Laosan's wailing through a message passed by his underling, and spat: "Ungrateful wretch! When it comes time to sell us out, you're the one who deserves to die!"

Mr. Wang reasoned with Shen Laosan at length, helped him to his feet, and sat down beside him on the ridge between the fields.

"Laosan, how much land does your family have in total?"

"The hidden fields come to eleven mu and four fen. On the fish-scale register, the registered fields come to twenty-one mu and three fen."

Mr. Wang did some mental arithmetic, then sighed: "Ai, your arrears come to over eighty taels of silver. Right now this land would only sell for a bit over fifty taels. It's truly far from enough."

Shen Laosan just wiped his tears, and upon hearing this tried to kneel to Mr. Wang again.

Mr. Wang pulled him up and asked: "How old is your little girl now?"

Shen Laosan was startled, then answered honestly: "Nine."

Mr. Wang sighed: "Ai! What a pity. Sell her, and you'd scrape together at most another five taels. And your wife?"

Shen Laosan shook his head desperately: "I can't sell them. Neither of them can be sold!"

Mr. Wang let out a long sigh: "When dynasties rise, the people suffer; when dynasties fall, the people suffer." Having said this, he made to get up and leave.

Shen Laosan grabbed his arm desperately and begged bitterly: "Mr. Wang, think of another way. I beg you—help me think of another way." "I'm helpless in this too. I'm sorry."

Mr. Wang walked toward the village, but halfway there he suddenly stopped and turned around.

Shen Laosan's eyes lit up, and he scrambled over on all fours: "Mr. Wang, have you thought of something?"

Mr. Wang's eyes showed reluctance to bear it, and he looked into the distance.

There crouched the Xu estate steward's underling. Seeing Mr. Wang's gaze shoot over, he pressed his hands together like a blade and drew them across his neck in a throat-cutting gesture. Mr. Wang steeled himself and said: "Laosan, are you afraid of death?"

Shen Laosan returned home in a daze and didn't sleep all night. In the small hours he opened his eyes, rose with resolve, touched his sleeping children in the room, and kowtowed to his mother.

Then he took a length of hemp rope and walked alone to the eleven mu of hidden fields east of the village.

Looking at the fertile fields before him, tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes. Teardrops as big as beans fell with a patter, patter, wetting the soil. In his heart he recalled Mr. Wang's words: "At this point, only if someone dies will the authorities waive the accumulated arrears. Once you die, your family will be left with only orphans and a widow, and the authorities won't make trouble for them anymore."

Shen Laosan tied the noose to the old tallow tree at the edge of the field, still weeping without cease. He muttered grievance: "How could I be a landlord? Ai! How could I possibly be a landlord?"

Shen Laosan moved two stones and stacked them together. His eyes were vacant, and he muttered to himself.

"Huzi, Zhaodi—I've dragged you down. Once I'm gone, your lives will get better."

"Mother, your son has been unfilial. May you all live well from now on..."

Shen Laosan stepped onto the stone, stretched his neck into the noose, and kicked hard.

The next day, when the villagers found him, it was already broad daylight, and Shen Laosan's body had long since gone cold.

Shen Laosan's death was like a drop of water falling into a pot of oil—it exploded across the countryside in an instant.

The village head was the first to arrive at the scene, and before the villagers, he stamped his feet and sighed: "Alas! A good family, gone just like that. Land surveying, land surveying—driving the common folk to ruin!"

In the distance, Shen Laosan's widow, Shen Zhangshi, came running like a madwoman. She tripped on the way, bashing her head until it bled, but without even noticing, she scrambled back up, ran to her husband's corpse, and let out a piercing wail.

When villagers who didn't understand what had happened began pointing and murmuring, the village head stepped forward to explain: "It was the court's land survey—they pressed hard for back taxes, and when he couldn't pay, they threatened to confiscate his property. They hounded the man to death!"

Mr. Wang from the village school directed a few village women to support the widow Shen Zhangshi, then said with righteous indignation: "Sister Shen, your man was hounded to death by the court. This cannot be let go! I'll write a petition for you—we'll go file a complaint."

Some villagers whispered among themselves: "When the court itself drives a man to death, where are you supposed to file a complaint?"

Mr. Wang said with solemn righteousness: "The court is unjust, the officials won't act—but there are those who can! As long as we scholars remain, the righteous spirit of the world will not perish! This matter, I, Wang Xuesen, will see through to the end!"

Mr. Wang had barely returned home when, before noon, a denunciation notice was already written—so fast it was baffling, as if it had been prepared in advance. The news that the Great Xia land survey had driven a man to his death spread with the notice, reaching Suzhou city that very day, where it immediately caused an uproar.

Through layer upon layer of embellishment by idle townsfolk and down-and-out government students, within a single day the matter had evolved into "The Great Xia land survey, with petty clerks extorting along the way, driving honest villagers to their deaths, leaving the common people with no means to live."

The scholars of Jiangnan had long maintained the tradition of qingyi—public commentary on matters of state.

To the scholars, the Great Xia land survey meant stripping away their future privileges, and many had long harbored resentment.

Now, with this matter of a man driven to death, the scholars' pent-up emotions suddenly found their outlet.

For a time, denunciation notices flew everywhere—within a single night, the streets and alleys were nearly papered over with them.

The next day, at Mr. Wang's arrangement, Shen Laosan's widow Shen Zhangshi arrived in Suzhou city leading her two children. They were dressed entirely in white mourning clothes, their cries shaking the heavens, while others beat gongs and drums and scattered spirit money, just like a funeral procession. The onlooking commoners were all deeply moved.

The funeral procession made its way all the way to the Confucian Temple in Suzhou city.

Already gathered there were over four hundred villagers and more than one hundred and twenty government students, led by three xiucai named Zhang, Li, and Wang.

Through the maneuvering of the gentry, the three had obtained the keys to the Confucian Temple. The moment the widow Shen Zhangshi arrived, the government students swept her along straight to the Great Achievement Hall.

Someone stepped up onto the bell rack and swung a wooden mallet to strike the bronze bell, while others pounded the hall drum at the side of the temple.

The heavy, somber sound of bells and drums rippled out wave after wave beyond the temple walls, spreading across half of Suzhou city. The commoners on the streets knew at once that something was happening at the Confucian Temple and flocked toward it. Within moments, over a thousand people had gathered outside the temple gates.

The government students straightened their caps and robes below the marble steps of the Great Achievement Hall, taking their positions by rank of examination status, every face grave.

Inside the hall, candles were lit, incense smoke curled upward, and before the spirit tablet of Confucius were laid the three sacrificial animals and incense.

The leading xiucai led the crowd in the three-kneeling, nine-kowtow rite. When the rite was complete, Xiucai Zhang unrolled a scroll of "A Lament to the Temple on the Harm of Land Surveying," its ink still wet, and read it aloud in a clear voice. "In the eleventh month of the third year of Zhongxuan, the students of Suzhou, Zhang Shilun and others, dare to proclaim before the spirit of the Supreme Sage and Foremost Teacher:

"Long ago the Master said, 'Oppressive government is fiercer than a tiger.' Now the Great Xia land survey policy is more poisonous than a fierce tiger by far."

The text recounted the events, its content largely identical to the denunciation notices posted around the city.

But the difference from the truth was this: in this version of the story, Shen Laosan had been hounded to death by cruel officials.

This change was made, first, to avoid the contradiction between the story itself and the Great Xia land survey policy.

Second, it was to spare the exalted—not aiming the spear directly at the policy, not directly at the King of Xia, but instead railing against corrupt officials who seized the opportunity to line their own pockets. After all, how Shen Laosan actually died had become a muddled account—if one said he was extorted by petty clerks on his way back to the village, no one could produce evidence to the contrary. This method of criticizing the Emperor by criticizing his officials was a tried-and-true tactic of the literati.

Were it not for this, Chongzhen would not have flown into such a rage when he saw all his ministers jointly impeach Gao Qiqian.

Reaching the end of the text, Xiucai Zhang wept with tears and a trembling voice: "Today we weep and appeal to the Foremost Teacher, begging you to look down with compassion—please suspend the land survey for now, punish the cruel officials, reassure the hearts of Jiangnan's people, and fulfill the Sage's way of benevolence toward the people."

"Wuuu, wuuu..."

Inside the Great Achievement Hall, all the government students wailed loudly together.

Among the government students, the widow Shen Zhangshi stared with vacant eyes, not uttering a word.

Mr. Wang said from the side: "Woman of the Shen family, cry!"

Shen Zhangshi said: "I can't cry."

She was merely a country farm wife who had never entered a city in her entire life. Suddenly confronted with such a scene, even with a sky-high grievance in her heart, she could not squeeze out a single tear at that moment.

Mr. Wang could only coax her patiently: "Don't you want to avenge your man? Don't you want justice? Do you want Zhaodi to be sold into a brothel, is that it?"

"No, no..."

"Then cry!"

Spurred by his goading, Shen Zhangshi finally cried out, her sobs growing louder and louder until all who heard were deeply moved.

Mr. Wang urged her on again: "Go to the foot of the marble steps, cry to the Foremost Teacher, let the Foremost Teacher seek justice for you."

Shen Zhangshi led her children forward and wept heartrendingly, while the two children wailed along with their mother.

The government students in the hall had already been burning with indignation; seeing this miserable sight, their emotions reached their peak.

Xiucai Zhang beat his chest and stamped his feet, crying out to the heavens: "Alas! What crime have the common people committed, to be driven to such extremes!"

The sound of several hundred people weeping in unison carried beyond the temple walls.

The onlooking commoners felt a wave of sorrow, and some wiped tears with their sleeves. The entire area around the Confucian Temple was steeped in grief and indignation.

No one doubted the truth of the matter any longer—when the orphaned children and the real mother were crying like that, how could it possibly be false?

After the crowd had wailed for a long time, Xiucai Zhang wiped away his tears and raised his arm in a rousing call: "Gentlemen, our tearful appeal to the Foremost Teacher is complete—now we must plead for the people! Let us go together to the Prefect's yamen and ask His Honor to seek justice for the people!"

The government students roared their assent in unison.

The procession marched out of the temple in full force, with Shen Zhangshi and her children supported at the very front, the scholars behind them, and the great mass of commoners bringing up the rear. Along the way, passersby kept joining in, the procession growing longer and longer until, by the time it reached the Prefect's yamen, over a thousand people had gathered.

On the second floor of a wineshop outside the prefectural yamen, Lin Qian sat by the window with Ye Zhen seated beside him. Before them were placed light wine and a few small dishes, but Lin Qian had not touched a single bite.

The entire wineshop had been cleared out, with personal guards stationed everywhere. The shopkeeper and waiters cowered behind the counter, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Lin Qian stared fixedly at the procession below, his face icy cold, and thought to himself: "The Great Xia has shown tolerance and mercy toward the gentry, and yet the gentry turn around and give me grief. Climbing right over my head like this—do they think my blade is dull? They're asking for death!"

Geng Wu said from the side: "Your Majesty, let me take some men and drive them off."

Lin Qian shook his head: "Leave the temple matter to Prefect Gu. You just send men to blend into the crowd—don't let a single one of those instigators get away!"

"Understood." Geng Wu acknowledged and went down to make arrangements.

The procession arrived before the prefectural yamen, where Suzhou Prefect Gu Yanwu had already been waiting for some time, surrounded by several hundred soldiers of the Great Xia garrison.

Seeing this, Xiucai Zhang raised the denunciation notice high with both hands and declared in a clear voice: "The students of Suzhou, together with the people, request His Honor to suspend the land survey, punish the cruel officials, and provide relief to the surviving family of the Shen household!"

The crowd accompanying him knelt together on the open ground before the yamen gate, chanting in unison: "Please, Your Honor, seek justice for the people!"

Over a thousand voices roared at once, a deafening clamor that the voices of Gu Yanwu and the yamen runners could not possibly suppress.

Gu Yanwu's face was cold. When the noise subsided slightly, he called out: "If you have grievances, state them in the courtroom. Raise the court!"

The Xu manor steward quickly signaled to his underling, who immediately shouted: "If you have something to say, say it right here, Your Honor, so everyone can hear!" "That's right, say it here!"

"Say it right here!"

The crowd erupted into uproar once more, passions running high, looking ready to storm the prefectural office.

Gu Yanwu watched coldly from the sidelines, appearing to do nothing, but the garrison troops were already moving—those who had been leading the shouting and stirring up trouble were all being dragged out from the crowd.

Someone yelled: "The Xia army is hitting people! The Xia army is hit—"

The shout cut off mid-sentence—Lin Qian's personal guards had already reached the man, knocked him unconscious, and were dragging him out of the crowd.

But after the garrison troops' rough handling, the crowd's panic and fury only grew, and some had already begun charging at the soldiers.

Gu Yanwu said in a frigid voice: "Fire the guns!"

Over fifty garrison soldiers raised their guns and fired into the air. A single thunderous crack—the crowd fell silent in an instant.

Scholar Zhang cowered, shrinking his neck, but seeing that the garrison troops dared not actually harm anyone, he raised his voice again: "What's this? Would Your Honor draw swords and guns against government students and common folk? I, Zhang Shilun, stand here today—come and kill me if you dare! Come on!"

Gu Yanwu ignored Scholar Zhang and walked straight into the crowd, stopping before Shen Laosan's widow. He clasped his hands in salute and said: "I am Gu Yanwu, Prefect of Suzhou. Shen Zhang-shi, I have already learned of your husband's death.

If you have grievances, simply come into the yamen with me. The prefectural office will seek justice for you."

Mr. Wang whispered from the side: "Cry—just cry!"

Gu Yanwu's gaze turned toward him: "Who are you? What right do you have to speak before this Prefect? Seize him!"

"Yes!" The yamen runners behind him moved to make the arrest at once.

Shen Zhang-shi hastily said: "Your Honor, Mr. Wang was helping me—he is a good man."

Gu Yanwu smiled with amusement: "Is that so? Since he is connected to this case, he may as well come to the prefectural office as well and explain the matter clearly!"

Mr. Wang panicked at once, making excuse after excuse to refuse, while his eyes searched the crowd for the Xu manor steward.

But the steward, seeing the situation turning bad, had long since slipped away.

Seeing this, Mr. Wang wanted to flee too, but the moment he took a step, a yamen runner grabbed him: "The yamen gate is this way. After you."

The Xu manor steward had finally squeezed his way out of the crowd and let out a long breath of relief, thinking to himself how different this Great Xia prefect was from the Ming prefects.

If this had been under the Great Ming, with a case of people wailing at the temple like this, whatever conditions the crowd raised, the prefectural office would have scrambled to agree. How could this Great Xia prefect focus only on investigating the case, with not a thought for how it might affect his official career?

A real hothead.

The steward cursed inwardly for a while, then turned to leave—but as he turned his head, he saw several soldiers in dark blue-gray uniforms staring right at him.

"You, you—" The steward bolted, and ran straight into a punch that broke his nasal bridge.

The steward heard a crack at the front of his face, his nose throbbing with agony as tears and blood streamed down uncontrollably.

"My nose, you bastard, you—"

The guard picked the steward up like a chicken: "Don't worry about your nose. Tonight you'll get a taste of the prefectural jail."

Out in front of the prefectural office, seeing that if the disturbance continued the matter would be exposed, the local worthy Xu Wangzhi—who had been waiting a street away—hurriedly arrived by sedan chair.

The moment he stepped out of the sedan, Xu Wangzhi put on a stern face and berated Zhang Shilun: "Nonsense! The court has its own laws. Gathering in crowds and making a racket—what sort of conduct is that? Withdraw at once!"

Turning to Gu Yanwu, he bowed and smiled apologetically: "Your Honor, please calm your anger. These young scholars are rash and impulsive, moved by righteous indignation in the moment—they did not intend to cause trouble.

Shen Laosan's suicide was merely a case of some ignorant country fool who could not see past his own troubles, yet it has thrown the whole city into panic.

Why not leave this matter to this old man's handling? I shall go and admonish the students, and I guarantee the crowd will disperse shortly, without disturbing the prefectural office in the least.

Your Honor is burdened with official duties—why let these trivial village matters delay your career prospects?"

"Trivial matters?" Gu Yanwu let out a cold laugh. Paying Xu Wangzhi no heed, he had the runners escort Shen Zhang-shi into the yamen and sent the arrested troublemakers into the prefectural office as well.

Finally, he called out to the crowd: "Good people of the neighborhood, this Prefect accepts this case. In one month's time, the trial will be held publicly, and all may attend as observers.

Disperse now. What happened today will not be pursued. Anyone who lingers and refuses to leave will be dealt with for causing disturbance."

The ringleaders had all been arrested, and though the remaining crowd was numerous, they could not stir up any waves—the people dispersed quickly.

The local worthy stood there awkwardly. Just as he was about to leave, Gu Yanwu called him back: "Old sir, where are you off to?"

The worthy smiled ingratiatingly: "Your Honor has handled the matter properly. Since this affair is concluded, this old man will take his leave."

"Still playing the fool at a time like this? Do you take this Prefect for a three-year-old child? Seize him!"

Xu Wangzhi was greatly alarmed: "You dare? I am—" Before he could finish, the runners had already seized him.

Up in the wine house, Ye Zhen said: "Husband, this Gu Yanwu you've employed is indeed capable. But with him investigating so hard, I fear there will be no good outcome." Lin Qian understood what Ye Zhen meant. It was obvious that the gentry were pulling strings behind the scenes, yet only small fry had been pushed to the front—and with the testimony of such small fry, one could never bite the great clans to death.

These great clans acted with seasoned cunning. Before making a move, they had already rehearsed every possibility, layering cutouts and shields at every level, cleaning up all loose ends so thoroughly that they would never leave a direct handle to grab.

This was also the reason the court knew full well that the Jiangnan gentry were resisting taxes, yet could do nothing about it.

But compared to the Great Ming, Lin Qian had one enormous advantage: the Great Xia bureaucracy did not depend on the Jiangnan gentry for support. Not a shred of the Great Xia's administrative power was clutched in these people's hands, so naturally he could act with full freedom to purge these vermin.

When Lin Qian had earlier used Ruan Dacheng to kill the chicken to warn the monkeys, his intent had not been to protect the gentry, but to protect the common people of the region.

Over two hundred years, the roots of the great clans had burrowed into every aspect of Jiangnan. To uproot them suddenly would certainly cause deep damage.

Shops closing their doors, grain barges clogging the waterways, weaving workshops shutting down, markets falling desolate, talent withering away—all of it could be foreseen.

Countless common folk would lose their livelihoods through collateral damage; countless innocents would suffer and die unjustly in prison.

But as things stood now, the gentry had also banked on exactly this, growing brazen with impunity.

Then Lin Qian did not mind cutting out the rotten flesh at all—he might as well slaughter until the rivers ran red, killing out a bloody new Jiangnan.

Moreover, if the Great Xia wanted to thoroughly abolish the corrupt privilege of gentry tax exemptions, it would need an excuse to overturn the table anyway.

Why not use the heads of the Jiangnan gentry to lay the foundation stone of the new policies!

Yahei

Pink Round

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