Chapter 403: Qian Qianyi: The Wind Too Fierce, the Snow Too Heavy

In the afternoon, on the ten-li long street before the Confucian Temple, ten new public trial platforms were erected to hear cases against the clansmen and servants of these gentry.

Xu Yuanpu's verdict had already been handed down, yet he had not been immediately executed, for other gentry cases might still implicate him—he was kept alive for further questioning.

But for the gentry's lackeys, there were no such concerns—after trial, they were immediately beheaded.

The execution ground was set on the street before the Confucian Temple. The lackeys, no sooner off the trial platform, were marched straight to the execution ground, without a moment to catch their breath.

The first batch of lackeys to be beheaded had not even registered what was happening before the executioner's blade fell.

In an instant, over thirty heads rolled, neck-blood still steaming, staining a great swath of snow red.

The common folk watching from all around shouted their approval in unison.

Before long, a second batch of lackeys was shoved onto the platform. Some pissed and shat themselves in terror, some cried out their innocence at the top of their lungs—the executioners remained unmoved and brought down their blades with practiced ease.

"Puchi!"

The executioner's blade struck the chopping block with a dull thud.

Another batch of bloody heads rolled off, like a basket of watermelons spilled across a fruit stall—bright red flesh, juice splattering everywhere.

And so it went: trial after trial, chop after chop, killing on until sunset. In total, one hundred and eighty-five gentry henchmen were executed, and the neck-blood dyed the entire execution ground red. The thick stench of blood could be smelled from a great distance.

The people, fearing they might be splattered with blood, retreated to fifty paces away, yet pink-tinted snowflakes still fell from time to time.

After nightfall, the public trials paused, and yamen runners pasted several dozen verdict documents onto the notice boards.

The next day at the first quarter of the mao hour, the public trials resumed—but the crowd that came to watch was less than half of yesterday's.

Today was the twenty-ninth of the twelfth month; tomorrow was the New Year. Suzhou city was draped in silver, yet there was not the slightest hint of festive atmosphere.

Though the public executions were all of wicked local gentry and had not harmed a single ordinary person, people are creatures of emotion.

In ordinary times, the common folk hated the gentry lords to the point of gnashing their teeth, wishing they could eat their flesh and drink their blood. But when they actually saw heads rolling and blood spilling everywhere, their anger was quickly spent—all that remained was the fox mourning the hare and trembling fear.

Lin Qian sensed the shift in the people's mood and moved the execution ground to a stretch of open countryside outside the city walls. The place was originally called Wangshudun, and had long served as a mass burial ground for generations. Under Ming rule, executions of major criminals were often moved here—it was the execution ground outside the city that the authorities tacitly acknowledged. Hence the locals commonly called it "Sharen Dun"—Killing Mound.

By nightfall of that day, another two hundred-odd lackeys had been executed.

Also executed alongside them were over fifty low-ranking scholars. These men had, to varying degrees, connections with the great clans—some had taken bribes, some had written denunciations, and some had directly or indirectly participated in the temple weeping protest.

Among them were certainly those who had been deceived, but there were also those who had acted out of malice. Since the butcher's knife had been drawn, the purge had to be swift and severe. With no time to distinguish carefully, they were all pushed onto the execution platform, and the scholars met their ends amid weeping and wailing.

After a full day's work, the dozen-odd executioners were exhausted, panting like oxen—five executioner's blades had been chipped or broken from the work.

Another five hundred-odd Jiangnan scholars who had shown sympathy toward the gentry were stripped of their examination credentials, their names recorded, never to be employed again.

The next day was New Year's Eve. The public trials proceeded as scheduled at the mao hour, but very few commoners came to watch.

Yet the number of those brought to trial, sentenced, and sent to the execution ground only grew.

Under the law, Great Xia had no crime of collective punishment—the old practices of exterminating three clans or nine clans had been entirely abolished.

But there was hardly a single Jiangnan gentry member who had ever shown his face outside his manor who was without misdeeds.

For concealing farmland from taxation, resisting taxes, annexing property, bullying the market, and terrorizing the countryside—these were the very survival methods of the gentry. Under the former Ming, such petty offenses counted only as misconduct, not even as illegal.

If one acted discreetly, they did not even count as misconduct—they were merely daily trivialities, as natural as eating and drinking.

Now Great Xia was passing sentences on eating and drinking—how could a single one of these gentry members come away clean?

On the public trial platform, virtually every case brought was judged, and every judgment was a beheading.

The only ones who survived were the womenfolk and children of the gentry households—confined by the strictures of female virtue or too young to leave the manor, they rarely went out and had no opportunity to commit evil. Thus they kept their lives.

But though the death penalty was spared, living punishment could not be avoided. The verdicts confiscated all property of the gentry households—truly not an inch of land or a single copper coin was left.

These women and children were driven out of their manors, and their fates would likely not be good.

Moreover, Great Xia imposed numerous restrictions on their means of livelihood: first, they were forbidden from studying for the examinations; second, they were forbidden from leaving their registered place of origin; third, their correspondence was placed under strict surveillance; and finally, they could not be hired for work ahead of ordinary citizens.

For those unwilling to wait for death in their place of origin, the only path of survival was to board ships and go develop Ezo or Oceania.

This was the maximum punishment permitted within the scope of Great Xia's laws.

In truth, this gave no consideration whatsoever to the survival of these gentry families or their ability to reintegrate into society—it was purely to prevent them from causing trouble in the future.

The principal gentry offenders had stood from the twenty-eighth of the twelfth month all the way to New Year's Eve. Over three days, they had heard an uncountable number of verdicts read out.

From the initial fury and bewilderment, to fear and anxiety, they had now descended into nothing but numbness.

The public trial platform had curtains to block the wind and a canopy to block the snow. The presiding judge, the prosecutors, and those in the observation seats each had a charcoal brazier, so they could still endure.

The plaintiffs and witnesses were all lodged in civilian homes, so they were fine as well.

But the principal gentry offenders all stood out in the wind and snow, with only a few curtains to break the wind. After a single day, they had caught colds; after three days, their hands and feet were covered in frostbite, their toes blackened and oozing pus, their ears falling off at the slightest touch. Quite a few of the frail had frozen to death where they stood.

Every time Zheng Zhilong came to dispose of the bodies, he would declare it suicide out of fear of punishment. Over three days, counting Dong Qichang, a full thirteen people had "committed suicide out of guilt."

The gentry had already realized that Great Xia simply wanted them dead. Rather than freeze to death and then be posthumously shamed with a suicide verdict, it was better to be tried and beheaded—at least that death was quick. Hence, many actually fought to be brought before the court.

When it came to Qian Qianyi's turn, the gentry around him cast envious glances his way.

Gu Yumu said: "Vice Minister, death is unavoidable either way—don't bow your head to those sea bandits!"

Xiang Deming said: "Vice Minister, perk up—let them see the backbone of us Jiangnan literati!"

The other gentry, having reached the limit of their endurance, knowing death was certain and their families ruined no matter what, had lost all their inhibitions and cheered him on one after another.

"Well said, Master Mu Zhai—don't lose face!"

Qian Qianyi's gaze was resolute. He stepped slowly onto the public trial platform, then halted, turned around, and solemnly clasped his hands in salute to the assembled gentry below.

The gentry returned the salute one after another, and in each other's eyes was nothing but the resolve of those who give their lives for righteousness.

After taking his position on the platform, Qian Qianyi was pressed down into the defendant's seat.

At the other side, the Chief Prosecutor Li Shixiong summoned Xu Yuanpu to testify, and asked: "Xu Yuanpu, after that night of the Yangcheng banquet, did you and the assembled gentry gather again through the night in Suzhou city?"

After three days, his voice—and that of the prosecutor who rotated with him—had become hoarse beyond recognition.

"Yes." Xu Yuanpu said. His case had been concluded on the first day; only because it was entangled with other cases had he not yet been executed.

Li Shixiong asked again: "Qian Qianyi was among those who gathered that night, was he not?"

"You discussed how to resist the land survey—who took the lead in proposing the plan?"

Xu Yuanpu shot him a glare: "No comment."

Li Shixiong said, "If you confess honestly, the case will move quickly, and you'll be able to leave swiftly, spared the suffering of wind, frost, hunger, and cold."

Xu Yuanpu gave a cold snort.

Li Shixiong said, "Summon the next witness. Bring—"

"I have something to say." Qian Qianyi spoke up in a clear voice.

"It's not your turn to speak!" Gu Yanwu rebuked him with a cold voice.

The yamen runner behind him threatened in a low voice: "Say one more word, and we'll put a gag on you."

Qian Qianyi showed no fear at all, and continued: "I want to be a witness!"

Qian Qianyi had sat through three days of public trial below the platform, and had already discerned something of the new-style trial methods of Great Xia, hence this proposal.

For a moment, everyone on the platform was somewhat at a loss, unsure whether a defendant could count as a witness. Gu Yanwu looked toward Li Shixiong.

Li Shixiong had not yet expressed his stance.

Lin Qian still had some understanding of Qian Qianyi. This man was a typical spineless literatus—perhaps he was thinking of defecting to Great Xia.

At the current pace of the trial, to finish judging the crimes of all the gentry would take at least four or five months.

If Qian Qianyi could open a breakthrough and voluntarily confess, the trial would go much faster.

So Lin Qian said, "Let him speak."

"Yes." Gu Yanwu barked at Qian Qianyi, "If you have something to say, say it now."

Qian Qianyi rose, and first made a solemn bow with clasped hands toward Lin Qian. Though his temples were frosted with white and his appearance was haggard, his courtesy was meticulous in every detail, bearing the backbone of a scholar-official.

Then they heard Qian Qianyi say: "Your Majesty above, all you honorable judges above. The criminal official Qian Qianyi, today prostrate before the tribunal, dares not utter a single word of falsehood.

The criminal official was born into a family of rank, grew up in a land of splendor, recited benevolence and righteousness from childhood, and spoke of saving the age and aiding the people—yet after more than a decade adrift in the sea of officialdom, blinded by greed, all I have done is shameless, dishonorable deeds, exploiting the people to fatten myself.

The land survey benefits the state and the people, yet the criminal official, for private gain, colluded with the gentry, spread rumors and stirred trouble, incited the temple-wailing protest, seeking to fan popular anger, coerce the court, resist the land survey, deceive the sovereign, and harm the state—worse than pigs and dogs!"

Then Qian Qianyi began to enumerate his own specific crimes in detail, each and every one clear and explicit, concealing nothing, confessing fully from the facts.

Everyone around—the gentry, the judges' bench, the commoners listening in—was stunned speechless.

In this world, someone confessing so thoroughly, so completely exposing his own faults, was truly rare.

Even Xu Yuanpu's face changed drastically. He stared at Qian Qianyi and said, "Vice Minister, what is the meaning of this?"

The yamen runner behind him immediately barked: "Silence! It's not your turn to speak."

The busiest person present was the scribe. To record Qian Qianyi's words, his wolf-hair brush flew across the paper like a dragon, swift as thunder, every character chasing the spoken words onto the page, so fast that even the clerk grinding ink could not keep up with adding fresh ink.

When the scribe had written enough, Gu Yanwu said, "Are you finished?"

Qian Qianyi said, "No. I also wish to impeach Xu Yuanpu. This man is arrogant and overbearing, with no regard for the laws of the state. During the night gathering in Suzhou, it was this man who, relying on his illustrious family background, first proposed the evil scheme, seeking to use human lives to obstruct the land survey and harness popular anger to defy state law—truly the chief culprit among the gentry!

During the Jiajing reign, Xu Jie ascended to the position of Chief Grand Secretary of the Grand Secretariat, wielding the power of the court. Instead of assisting the sovereign and comforting the people, he devoted himself wholly to enriching himself and oppressing the countryside—"

Then he recounted the matter of Hai Rui surveying the Xu family's lands, and being forced out of office by Xu Jie.

The reasons behind that affair were actually very complex, but Qian Qianyi simplified it, flinging all the dirty water onto Xu Jie.

Xu Yuanpu was greatly alarmed: "Qian Qianyi! Have you gone mad?"

He was already a man condemned to death, guilty of a crime warranting the extermination of his entire clan. He had nothing left to lose, save for a bit of his ancestors' clean reputation and pedigree—and Qian Qianyi was directly exposing his ancestors' shame, tearing apart the last fig leaf. It was truly harder to bear than being killed with a single sword stroke.

The yamen runners tolerated it no longer. Men immediately stepped forward to take coercive measures, and Xu Yuanpu was gagged for the second time.

His eyes blazed with fury, and he roared from his throat without cease, but was dragged off the public trial platform by the runners and given a thorough beating.

Compared to the regular troops of Great Xia, the yamen runners were far more measured in their blows. Xu Yuanpu's whole body ached terribly and he had no strength left, yet he had not suffered serious injury, nor were there bruises on his face. He was dragged back onto the platform by the runners like a dead dog and pressed down beside the witness seat to listen.

Qian Qianyi was still speaking endlessly of the Xu clan's crimes—all the unspeakable secrets and hidden scandals of the Xu family. These obscure matters had never been committed to paper, only passed privately among the gentry, and the Qingping Bureau had no way to investigate them. Thus what Qian Qianyi told was a hundred times more vivid than what Great Xia already knew.

Xu Yuanpu could not refute, could not even muster the strength to shout. He could only let tears and saliva flow down together.

In the waiting-for-execution area, the other Xu family prisoners were all the same, their wailing utterly pitiful.

Qian Qianyi's actions could be said to be flaying skin and pulling sinews, stripping away the last shred of dignity the Xu family had.

The gentry in the waiting area suddenly woke as if from a dream, only then realizing that Qian Qianyi had defected to Great Xia.

At this point, offering up family property and cooperating with the land survey no longer held any value to Great Xia.

Only by thoroughly exposing the gentry's secrets could one possibly trade for a way to live.

The assembled gentry did not have much backbone, but they had at least a shred of it, and could not bring themselves to do such shameful things as bending the knee to enemies and licking the boots of a new dynasty.

Who would have thought that Qian Qianyi—this leader of the literati, this towering figure of the Jiangnan gentry—could be so thick-skinned.

Clearly, "from the bottom up" and "increase it twofold" were ideas spearheaded by Qian Qianyi himself, yet he was the first to defect to Great Xia and turn around to impeach his former co-conspirators.

Even words like "betraying friends for personal gain," "living in shameful cowardice," "shameless and dishonorable," "losing all dignity," and "sitting on the fence" seemed utterly weightless when used to describe him.

Even fellow Jiangnan gentry were shocked by the degree of his shamelessness. This man's thickness of face was truly unmatched in the world.

A gentry member shouted: "Vice Minister Qian! That day you said we should unite against a common enemy and jointly resist the land survey—how is it you yourself defected and switched sides first?

Another shouted: "Could it be that you find the wind too sharp and the snow too heavy, and want to go warm yourself inside a tent?"

At these words, the gentry all burst into loud laughter. Amid the laughter, some cursed Qian Qianyi with the most venomous words imaginable.

Others showed hesitation on their faces, thinking of learning Qian Qianyi's method to save their own lives.

Qian Qianyi's nephew Qian Sunhan heard those taunts and jeers, his face burning hot, wishing he could take a knife and slit his own throat.

The waiting area fell into chaos, and soon Xia soldiers came to suppress it, with more than a dozen more people being gagged.

On the public trial platform, Qian Qianyi bore the accusations of a thousand pointing fingers, turning a deaf ear, his expression unchanging, stripping the Xu family bare down to their undergarments. Finally he said: "Your Majesty, all you gentlemen, the Xu clan of Huating has crimes too numerous to record. What I have just said is merely the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps we should try other families first, and I shall write out the detailed crimes in the days to come."

Xu Yuanpu recovered some strength and let out a most miserable wail, a sound that hardly seemed human.

Gu Yanwu looked toward Lin Qian, and Lin Qian gave a slight nod.

Gu Yanwu turned and said, "Take Xu Yuanpu away."

Xu Yuanpu was supported and dragged back to the waiting-for-execution area by the runners. The moment they released him, he collapsed onto the ground, like a pile of rotten flesh with the bones removed.

Xu Yingyi scrambled forward on hands and knees, looking at his father who had been tortured to the brink of death, silently weeping. He called out to the runners: "Hey—mi—mister, please take that—that thing out of my father's mouth."

This man was Xu Yuanpu's youngest son, a brother to Xu Yingzi.

Xu Yingzi was brutally beaten by the garrison soldiers before his court session, his injuries so severe that he could not recover. The military doctor fed him opium to get him through the hearing, but he has since died. Therefore, his youngest son came forward to negotiate in his place.

The yamen runner glanced back, looking somewhat annoyed: "He's going to be beheaded soon enough anyway—what's the point of all this extra trouble?"

The mouth gag was made of iron, and with Suzhou's winter cold, the gag had frozen to the flesh on both sides of Xu Yuanpu's lips. It had already torn the skin around his mouth bloody, the blood streaming down his cheeks like a grotesque grin split across his face.

Seeing his father in such a miserable state, Xu Yingyi's heart ached as if pierced by knives, and he repeatedly bowed and pleaded with the yamen runner.

The yamen runner had been listening to the trial on the sidelines, burning with righteous indignation at the Xu family's crimes. Now a cruel thought arose in him, and he said: "Kneel down and kowtow three times with your head hitting the ground, and I'll do as you ask."

Xu Yingyi stood frozen on the spot.

Xu Yuanpu recovered a little strength, slowly shook his head, and let out two muffled syllables that sounded like: "Do not."

The yamen runner sneered: "What's this? When your Xu family was terrorizing the countryside, countless common folk knelt and kowtowed to beg for mercy, and you took it all in stride. Now that it's your turn to beg, your knees won't bend? What kind of people are you? Pah!"

The yamen runner spat and turned to leave.

Xu Yingyi panicked, hastily blocked his way, then knelt down in utter humiliation and kowtowed.

The first knock made little sound. The yamen runner picked at his ear and said: "Didn't hear it. That one doesn't count."

Tears welled in Xu Yingyi's eyes. He forced himself not to let them fall, lowered his head, and knocked heavily once more.

The yamen runner said: "Too quiet. Can't hear a thing."

"You!" Xu Yingyi looked up, eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on his neck, as if ready to devour someone.

The yamen runner gripped his water-and-fire staff and said: "What, calling for your grandpa?"

Xu Yingyi ultimately swallowed his anger, steeled himself, and knocked three more resounding kowtows.

When he rose, his forehead was already bleeding, the blood streaming down his face in a shocking sight.

Only then was the yamen runner satisfied. He unfastened Xu Yuanpu's mouth gag, saying: "Those three kowtows count. I'm a man of my word—I'll handle your matter. Since the Jiajing reign, countless common folk have kowtowed to your family, knocking themselves bloody and bruised, and you were unmoved.

You feel humiliated now—but think of those common folk, and you'll know you deserve all of this."

Xu Yingyi dared not talk back, only lowering his head and acknowledging the words.

As he spoke, the yamen runner had already opened the lock, but Xu Yuanpu's lip flesh had adhered tightly to the gag. With the slightest pull, skin and flesh tore away together, blood gushing out. The pain made Xu Yuanpu's limbs convulse and his eyes roll back.

Even onlookers felt phantom pain at the sight.

The yamen runner unhooked the gourd at his waist—inside was hot water drawn fresh that morning, though by now it had mostly gone cold. Treating it as a last resort, he poured the lukewarm water over the gag, then yanked it out with force.

Blood splattered across the yamen runner's hand, and strips of flesh still clung to the gag. Xu Yuanpu thrashed and convulsed, nearly dying from the pain.

The yamen runner disgustedly put away the gag and left.

"Father! Your son is unfilial!" Xu Yingyi knelt and wailed, but his gaze was not on his father—it darted toward the public trial platform nearby.

The Great Ming ruled by filial piety. A son enduring humiliation to plead for his father might move the Emperor with his filial devotion, and thereby win pardon for his father or himself.

This sounded absurd, but it actually happened often. To speak of recent times, there was Yang He, Governor-General of the Three Borders during the Chongzhen reign. After his pacification efforts failed, the Chongzhen Emperor was going to have him beheaded, but it was only because his son pleaded for him that the sentence was commuted to exile. His son Yang Sichang thereby won the Emperor's appreciation and rose swiftly through the ranks.

Xu Yingyi's whole performance—removing his father's gag was a pretext; clearing himself of guilt was the real aim.

But when his gaze swept toward the public trial platform, he saw the assembled officials each busy with their own affairs, no one paying him the slightest attention. He could only sigh at his bad luck.

Next to be brought up to the public trial platform was Gu Yumu, son of Gu Xiancheng. The moment he stepped on stage, he sneered at Qian Qianyi: "What a spineless coward!"

Qian Qianyi's expression did not change in the slightest. He said with righteous conviction: "The Xia dynasty replacing the Ming is the great tide of the world. The King rose from humble origins, and his ascension accords with the people's will, fitting the orthodox path of kingship.

I have abandoned darkness for light, to preserve the literary tradition for ten thousand generations, to safeguard the welfare of all living people.

We wealthy gentry and old officials who obstructed the land survey were like mantises trying to stop a chariot—our deaths would have been well deserved.

The Xia King did not forget the sage's way of loyalty and forgiveness, and gave us a path to survival, asking us to cooperate with the land survey. It was we who were obstinate and courted our own destruction. Now that disaster looms, how can we blame others?

I, Qian Qianyi, count myself among the corrupt gentry as well. I step forward to expose you all—not to save my own life, but to proclaim your crimes to the world, so that all may know how deep Jiangnan's accumulated ills run. Once the dust settles, Qianyi will willingly submit to judgment and face death with composure!

Everyone around listened in stunned silence. Setting aside his identity, these words rang with righteous fervor and struck with force. Anyone who didn't know better would surely take him for a noble gentleman who sacrificed himself for righteousness.

But recalling how Qian Qianyi had taken the lead in stirring up trouble at the Suzhou night gathering, and considering his circumstances over these past three days, these words were truly the height of shamelessness.

Even Gu Yanwu, Li Shixiong, and the others exchanged bewildered glances, stunned by the thickness of Qian Qianyi's face.

Gu Yumu was silent for a long moment, then suddenly burst into loud laughter, rocking back and forth until tears streamed down his face: "Qian Qianyi, if you truly possessed such lofty integrity, why didn't you act on it earlier?

You've been watching from below the platform for three days now. Clearly, it was only when you saw no hope of survival that you switched allegiances—just wagging your tail and begging for mercy.

You say you're willing to die, yet you deliberately told only half of the Xu family's dirty secrets, saving the rest to reveal after the trial. You're just hoping for a chance to cling to life. Do you think we can't see through it?

Shameless! Utterly shameless! That I, Gu Yumu, once revered you as the literary patriarch—I must have been blind!"

Qian Qianyi gave a cold snort: "Still barking like a dog. You truly don't know what's good for you."

Then he turned to Lin Qian, clasped his hands in salute and said: "Your Majesty, I wish to report the Gu family's filthy deeds, to uphold the nation's laws."

Lin Qian made no response. Gu Yanwu said: "If you know something, speak."

Once Qian Qianyi opened his mouth, he spoke in an endless torrent for an hour, making no attempt to conceal anything—indeed, he embellished and exaggerated,

spinning wild fabrications.

Even though Gu Yumu had already resolved to die, facing such blatant slander and insult, he was so furious that smoke seemed to pour from his seven orifices. He kept trying to refute, but after a few words the gag was put back on him, leaving him only able to whimper and struggle.

To be fair, Gu Xiancheng had governed his household strictly. Apart from the common vices shared by late-Ming gentry, his family had virtually no blemishes in personal conduct.

And Qian Qianyi, desperate to survive, had to prove himself useful. To be useful, he had to viciously denounce the other local gentry, reducing them to worthlessness, revulsion, and utter depravity—only then would the Xia dynasty's reckoning with the gentry seem all the more justified and win the people's hearts.

So Qian Qianyi had to fabricate dirt on the Gu family even if he had to invent it from scratch.

And since Qian Qianyi had served as Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites, he knew the accusations Gu Xiancheng's political enemies had leveled against him, and he also knew the misdeeds committed by other rotten elements within the Donglin Faction. Combined with Qian Qianyi's considerable literary talent, he gathered all of the above, embellished it, and pinned the whole concoction on Gu Xiancheng.

Poor Gu Xiancheng, who had been sleeping underground for nearly twenty years, now had a chamber pot of filth dumped squarely on his head.

The onlookers heard Qian Qianyi speak with such vivid detail—times, places, and persons all complete—that they believed every word and listened with great relish.

Many common folk passing by the platform on their errands stopped to listen for a while.

The scribe on the platform wrote with flying speed, his brush nearly sparking against the paper.

And Gu Yumu, who had struggled without cease, had exhausted all his strength. He collapsed limply in the defendant's seat, staring blankly as tears flowed. At this moment, no one understood the taste of injustice better than he did.

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen