Chapter 93: A Scorpion's Turd

After the meeting concluded.

Lin Qian walked out of the officers' mess hall, glanced at the sky, and saw that it was already late—a crescent moon hung askew at the horizon, yet Nan'ao City remained a scene of bustling activity.

Nan'ao City had no curfew and no taxes, and the islanders had earned a good deal of silver through their labor.

Moreover, because productivity was insufficient, prices on the island were much higher than on the shore.

This caused merchants from Chaozhou to flock to Nan'ao like seagulls spotting fresh fish.

In the early days, the merchants would sail over after dawn and return by boat before dark.

Gradually, some merchants realized that at night, when their fellow traders had all gone back to shore, the islanders would still come out to stroll around—during that window, with no competition, they could make a killing.

So more and more merchants began returning to shore once every two days, or even once every three or four days.

This mode of overnight business gave Nan'ao City's night market its initial shape.

Since arriving on Nan'ao Island, Lin Qian had been so busy he couldn't see straight, and had never found the time to properly look the place over.

As it happened, he needed to buy some materials for breaching the water gate and would also need some manpower—so he might as well take this opportunity to stroll around.

Lin Qian brought Bailangzai down from the ship and walked to the street.

The shops lining the main thoroughfare were still somewhat sparse, but the street vendors hawking their wares along the road were packed together in a jumble.

At hot spots like the crossroads, the vendors were even more crowded, and occupying the roadway to do business was extremely common.

Back when Nan'ao City was designed, Lin Qian had laid out the roads very wide, even reserving space for roadside trees and streetlamps.

And since the island still had no carts or horses—everyone traveled on foot—these vendors occupying the road didn't actually obstruct traffic.

Moreover, the island currently had only a militia guard of a little over two hundred men, whose main duty was watching the pirate prisoners at work.

There were no police or market-enforcement agencies, so even if these vendors completely blocked the road, nobody would have managed them.

This state of order and chaos coexisting really did carry a certain flavor of a pirate republic.

But the chaos on Nan'ao Island was only temporary—once Lin Qian finished with the Huangyan Lin clan affair and had ample silver, he would set about solving the island's order problem.

The two of them walked south along the main thoroughfare, and the most common sight along the way was fish stalls; other than that, staple foods and side dishes, drinks and desserts, fresh and dried fruits, cloth and clothing, household goods—just about everything imaginable was on offer.

One could see from this just how prosperous the Great Ming's commodity economy was.

What shocked Lin Qian most was that the island actually had a book-selling stall.

Selling books on an island where everyone was illiterate—that truly was a scorpion's turd, one of a kind.

Lin Qian grew interested, stepped forward, and began flipping through the books.

Seeing business arrive, the stall owner immediately pulled out a flint striker, blew it alight, and attentively lit a lantern, holding it to the side.

By the lantern's glow, Lin Qian leafed through the books with keen interest.

Most of them turned out to be romance novels, such as The Plum in the Golden Vase, The Oil Seller and the Courtesan, Zhao Wuniang Sacrifices Herself to Save Her Husband, and The Liu Mansion Carriage Affair.

Flipping through them casually, he saw the books were woodblock printed, finely done, and even had illustrations—quite a lot of illustrations, in fact.

Now Lin Qian understood why there was a book stall on the island.

The stall owner flashed a smile that every man understood: "If these don't satisfy you, sir, I have some with even more pictures."

Lin Qian put the book down: "Do you have any charcoal pencils?"

The stall owner was taken aback, then pulled out a cloth pouch: "Yes, fine graphite."

In the Great Ming, charcoal pencils were mainly used by carpenters for marking their work.

This stall owner had heard from others that Nan'ao Island was in the midst of major construction, figured the demand for charcoal pencils would be high, and so brought over thirty-odd pencils to the island—only to find that illustrated books sold far better than pencils.

A charcoal pencil was a strip of graphite wrapped in coarse cloth, not too different in form from a modern pencil.

Lin Qian took the pencil, held it up to the lamplight to examine it, confirmed it was made of pure graphite, then set it down and said: "I'll take all of them."

Bailangzai pulled out silver to pay, and the stall owner accepted it gleefully, thinking to himself that doing business at night was indeed the right call—had he gone back early, he'd have missed a big order for nothing.

Lin Qian then said to the stall owner: "How many of these graphite pencils do you have?"

The stall owner was startled: "How many would you like, sir?"

"Start with twenty catties; if that's not enough, I'll order more from you." Lin Qian said flatly.

Now it was the stall owner's turn to be dumbfounded.

To keep him from doubting it, Lin Qian had Bailangzai pay half as a deposit upfront.

The stall owner slapped his chest in guarantee that even if every girl in Chaozhou went without eyebrow pencils tomorrow, he would still procure the graphite pencils Lin Qian had requested.

Seeing that this man was fairly sharp, Lin Qian took the opportunity to probe: "When you come to the island to do business, aren't you afraid the county will find out?"

The stall owner found the question odd: "The county has always known. As long as we keep up the bribes to the county yamen runners, nobody comes after us."

"Doesn't the county magistrate care?"

A bewildered look spread across the stall owner's face: "Which county's magistrate do you mean? The three coastal counties under Chaozhou Prefecture haven't had a magistrate in over ten years."

Lin Qian was quite surprised and pressed for more.

The stall owner shook his head: "I don't know what happened with the other two counties, but Chenghai County's last magistrate stepped down in the thirty-fifth year of Wanli...

Or maybe the thirty-sixth year of Wanli? I can't remember clearly.

Anyway, since then, no magistrate has ever come.

It's not just our Chaozhou Prefecture either—I hear neighboring Zhangzhou Prefecture and Huizhou Prefecture are the same.

Fortunately, the seas have been peaceful these past few years, so not having a magistrate hasn't mattered much—everyone's lives go on just the same."

Lin Qian chatted a bit more with the stall owner and gradually came to understand what was going on.

So it was all thanks to the Wanli Emperor's neglect of governance—memorials were all left unanswered in the palace, resulting in vacant local posts never being filled.

Fortunately, power didn't remain in a vacuum: local clerks and great clans gradually carved up the magistrate's authority, and relying on institutional inertia, they managed to keep things running.

In this semi-anarchic state, common folk coming to the island to do business naturally faced no restrictions.

Just as he was about to leave, Lin Qian noticed a sheet of paper by the stall owner's hand, densely printed with characters.

Looking closely, Lin Qian saw the words "the Capital Gazette" written in the upper-left corner.

Lin Qian grew curious, picked it up and looked it over. The Capital Gazette was dated about half a month earlier, its contents covering the new emperor's accession grace edict and the like.

Before he could read it closely, the stall owner saw Lin Qian's interest and said, "This Capital Gazette is the only copy I have. If you'd like to see it, sir, I'll just give it to you."

Lin Qian asked curiously, "Where did this Capital Gazette come from?"

The stall owner said, "Naturally, I bought it from a big shop."

After the stall owner explained at length, Lin Qian understood: in the Ming dynasty, the Capital Gazette was printed by the Grand Secretariat and distributed to each province, generally printed within the province and allotted to officials.

But the people of the southeast were keen on current affairs and had a high literacy rate, so within the province the Gazette's woodblocks were also issued to bookshops, which printed and sold copies to the common folk.

It really was no different from newspapers of later ages — a clear sign of how flourishing Jiangnan's culture was in the late Ming.

Lin Qian had Bailangzai give him another tael of silver.

The stall owner waved his hands in refusal: "The Gazette is a gift to you, sir — how could I take this?"

Lin Qian said, "From now on, send every issue of the Capital Gazette to the island. This is payment for your trouble delivering them."

Hearing this, the stall owner accepted the silver and made repeated promises.

After leaving, Lin Qian carefully folded the Capital Gazette and tucked it against his chest for safekeeping.

He then walked toward the Green Plum Shop. He bought a catty of lead dan — in the Great Ming this was also called "red dan," a common medicine for treating sores and ulcers.

On the way he passed a cloth stall and bought a bolt of cotton cloth.

Lin Qian had Bailangzai carry the goods, and headed toward the prisoner camp.

The farther south one went in all of Nan'ao town, the more desolate it became. Once a few li outside the town walls, one could see a wild scene of dense woods and rugged terrain.

A dozen or so crude sheds were built at the edge of the woods, their interiors messily spread with straw.

The sea bandit prisoners, ten to a group, lay in the sheds with chains of shackles on their feet.

These men had just finished a hard day's labor and were preparing to rest.

Around the straw sheds stood a separate shelter, where several dozen militiamen sat holding long spears, keeping watch.

Lin Qian found the militia squad leader, brought out the things he had prepared, and said, "Get the prisoners up. There's work to do."

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen