Chapter 198: Might as Well Be a Little Greedy

"Would Chang'an ever lack firewood?"

In a private room on the second floor of Apricot Blossom Tower, Fang Chongyong asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Chang'an was so large, with well-developed waterways all around — could there really be no trees? And if there were trees, how could there be no way to cut firewood?

How did that poem go again? "Gazing back at Chang'an, embroidered into heaps" — that was saying there were plenty of trees around Chang'an!

Fang Chongyong could not quite understand how the people of Chang'an could still be short of firewood.

"Setting everything else aside, the post roads on both sides are lush with trees — can none of them be cut?"

"Sigh. You see willows and mulberries planted along both sides of the Chang'an post roads — none of those may be cut.

Moreover, the mulberry trees grown by farming households in Guanzhong may not be cut either, including by the families themselves.

Set all of those aside, and there aren't many trees left to cut around Chang'an. All told, the court has long had prohibitions on this."

Zheng Shuqing said with a helpless expression.

Fang Chongyong then nodded slightly in agreement. He simply hadn't known that Chang'an's firewood shortage had reached this extent, but he had a general sense of the various regulations promulgated by the authorities.

The authorities had ordinances stipulating that ordinary residents of Chang'an must not recklessly cut trees everywhere, and these regulations had been issued very early and in great detail — already spelled out clearly during the Zhenguan era.

If an ordinary person, for the sake of convenience, cut down someone else's mulberry tree to burn as firewood, once caught, cutting even a few trees could earn a death sentence. Previously no one did this because the trees around Chang'an were still fairly plentiful, so the conflict was not acute. Now many people had already begun risking danger to illegally fell trees, and the Jingzhao Prefecture could not catch them all.

What's more, back then many of the woods on the outskirts were "ownerless land," whereas now those woods had become the private reserves of great aristocratic families and the imperial clan, and ordinary people were not allowed to cut them. If one absolutely had to go, it was not impossible to negotiate — one simply had to pay money, similar to a tax.

However, this tax was levied very heavily — essentially, one would be felling timber for the powerful and noble.

So, what did the common folk of Chang'an use to make fire, and what did they use to keep warm?

The answer was: those with a little money bought firewood at the West Market; those without money went to the outskirts to buy "byproducts" like thatch, straw, and branches from others. The even poorer bought scraps and focused solely on making fire to cook, while for warmth they could only rely on shivering.

"So, as Charcoal Commissioner, you already can't obtain firewood around Chang'an, is that right?"

Fang Chongyong asked with a soft sigh.

Zheng Shuqing nodded slightly. In fact, the matter was still somewhat complicated — not as simple and casual as he had put it.

The court had a specialized agency to manage firewood, namely the Goushun Bureau under the Court of National Granaries, which served as the corresponding central institution.

So where did the Goushun Bureau's charcoal come from?

The answer was: either purchased from the populace, or sourced from the Charcoal Commissioner.

And the Charcoal Commissioner's sources of charcoal were either hiring people to fell timber at designated locations and then burn it into charcoal, or also purchasing from the populace.

The two actually had a certain competitive relationship.

Hiring people to fell timber and burn charcoal required mobilizing corvée labor, which needed the cooperation of the Corvée Labor Commissioner's office — also a rather troublesome affair.

The current situation was that this year's corvée labor had already been fully dispatched; mobilizing more corvée would amount to pure arbitrary requisition, which was rather difficult to execute locally. And if they purchased with money, firewood prices were now soaring — this stuff wouldn't spoil if stored away, making it quite suitable for hoarding and profiteering.

It seemed that unscrupulous merchants in Chang'an were continuously purchasing firewood, driving up its price. If the Charcoal Commissioner forcibly purchased regardless of price factors, it would only make firewood prices even higher.

Moreover, even having spent large sums, one still could not buy a sufficient quantity of firewood, let alone the charcoal burned from firewood.

How could the noble personages in the palace use firewood to make fires for warmth? Even for charcoal heating, they had to find ways to obtain only the highest grade!

So after going around in a circle, this Charcoal Commissioner's trouble ultimately became a pattern of "natural disaster + man-made calamity."

Because it was already in short supply, under the guidance of market scarcity, some people hoarded and profiteered, causing the scarce goods to become even scarcer.

And when firewood prices rose, other daily necessities would follow suit and rise as well. The charcoal needed by the palace and the hundred officials (they did not use firewood) came from two different channels: the Charcoal Commissioner and the Goushun Bureau.

In a situation like two monks carrying water together, buck-passing was inevitable.

Zheng Shuqing had only recently taken up his post and was losing ground in the tug-of-war with the Goushun Bureau.

After all, the Goushun Bureau did not have the ability to mobilize corvée labor, so outsiders would consider the primary responsibility for Chang'an's firewood shortage to lie with the Charcoal Commissioner.

Yet setting all that aside, even if Zheng Shuqing and the Goushun Bureau could unite and cooperate, they still could not fully resolve Chang'an's firewood shortage.

It was like a family relying solely on that meager harvest from the fields to get by — even if the head of the household could distribute everyone's share very fairly, when a bad harvest came, everyone would still go hungry, and the problem of hunger could not be fundamentally solved.

This was the same principle.

"In winter, the demand for firewood is very large. But the canal freezes over instead, so firewood can't come from elsewhere by water — so this matter is quite difficult to handle, isn't it?

By the time summer arrives, there won't be any need to specially manage this firewood business anymore. By then, I'm afraid Investigator Zheng will already have been dismissed from office."

Fang Chongyong said thoughtfully, taking a sip of the "winter drink" exclusively served at Apricot Blossom Tower.

At once, a familiar taste filled his mouth!

He took another sip, his expression peculiar, wanting to say something but not knowing how to broach it.

Zheng Shuqing, thinking he had caught on to something, quickly lowered his voice and revealed an ambiguous smile that all men would understand, saying: "A recipe from the palace — for boosting virility. If you don't properly fortify those two little temptresses of yours, I'd say they'll be hard to handle."

"So it's a palace recipe."

Fang Chongyong let out a long sigh. This was exported goods re-sold domestically — absolutely hilarious! No wonder his mouth was full of that weird taste of "Qi-Soothing Yang-Locking Tea" — so the source was right here!

"Yes, you're right. In winter the trees are bare, yet demand is instead even higher — how could there not be a shortage? The greater the shortage, the more people play tricks."

"Take this money business, for instance, right?"

Fang Chongyong pulled several crudely made copper coins from his sleeve, placed them in front of Zheng Shuqing, and continued:

"It seems the good coins on the Chang'an market have all been collected away. They gather up the good coins, remelt and recast them into bad coins and inferior coins, then put them back into circulation on the market.

I'm guessing a lot of the firewood being collected is probably being used for exactly this purpose."

Fang Chongyong gave a cold chuckle and pushed the copper coins in front of Zheng Shuqing.

"You're talking about this... a great many imperial relatives and nobles are all doing it."

Zheng Shuqing shook his head helplessly. His own family was quite wealthy, so naturally he would not care about such things. But if many poor families received bad coins, they would suffer losses.

"Among the privately minted underweight coins in circulation, there are Goose-Eye coins, Iron-Tin coins, Off-Furnace coins, Seasonal coins, and Ridged coins, and so on. Look, this kind is the most common Goose-Eye coin — the hole in the center is large, and it's quite a bit lighter than a good coin.

Although it's crudely made, often with rough edges, it can be recognized at a glance. But there are simply too many people using them, and the officially minted regular Kaiyuan Tongbao coins are too few, so naturally inferior coins run rampant without restraint. Wealthy merchants collect the good coins they receive and exchange them for inferior coins to spend, with the result that inferior coins on the market become ever more numerous.

All of this is driven by human nature — seeking profit and avoiding harm."

Zheng Shuqing explained to Fang Chongyong what the deal with inferior coins was.

Don't assume that inferior coins seem to have nothing to do with firewood. In reality, the ever-increasing inferior coins on the market all relied on continuous private minting, gradually being diluted into the process of trade. If one could control the usage and purpose of firewood, one could also to a certain extent suppress the behavior of private minting.

Of course, the wealthy merchants involved in private minting are backed by high officials and nobles, even imperial relatives.

If there's no need, Zheng Shuqing won't bother with such trivial matters.

"Understood, I'll think of a solution. This matter is not easy to handle."

Fang Chongyong waved his hand and said.

Hearing him say that, Zheng Shuqing finally breathed a sigh of relief. If Fang Chongyong claimed he could solve it easily in a few strokes, Zheng Shuqing would not dare believe such nonsense.

Precisely because the other side spoke conservatively, the reverse statement creates a chance to resolve the issue.

Zheng Shuqing fished a envelope from his sleeve, pushed it toward Fang Chongyong and said, "A small token, not a formal tribute."

Fang Chongyong took the envelope, pulled out the paper inside and examined it. It was a bill from a money shop in Chang'an, the so‑called "flying money." The Zheng family in Xingyang had already paid the amount. Zheng Shuqing could collect the funds at the sequential‑number money shop in Chang'an.

Similar "financial institutions" are already very popular in Chang'an. Yet the standard model for large‑scale Tang‑era transactions would not appear until the late Tang and Five Dynasties period, when Military Governor Zhang Kuang and Qiu Ba's performance art flourished.

That single paper is worth ten thousand bolts of silk. Fang Chongyong's modest courtyard might not even hold it all. Of course, he could exchange it for valuable cloth, though the quantity would be less.

"What do you mean by this?"

Fang Chongyong's expression turned sour as he asked.

"Hehe, I'm just being courteous."

"That's not courteous enough."

Fang Chongyong handed the envelope to Zheng Shuqing, sighed and said, "Consider it a favor for the people of Chang'an; no need to take the money."

"Even a saint has to spend money. Ah, I'm not talking about the saint of Chang'an."

If you don't spend, does your blossoming young lady at home not buy rouge, powder, and cosmetics? Not buy fine silk and brocade? Not dress up beautifully for you to see?

When you have offspring, will they not need to study and apprentice? Where would they not need money?

"Keeping it isn't unreasonable."

Zheng Shuqing said with a solemn expression.

"Things beyond the body are of little use. Life is like floating duckweed; it may disappear the day it says it's gone. Caring about such things only slows the blade in your hand."

"Rest assured, for the matter you asked, I'll definitely devise a good solution."

Fang Chongyong waved his hand, said, and rose to take his leave.

Zheng Shuqing's money could of course be taken, but rather than using his, it's better to take Ji Ge's, to avoid gossip.

Fang Chongyong calculated clearly in his mind; Old Zheng's status has changed, and dealings must be handled with great caution.

When chaos erupts, the household's floating wealth will be like fireflies in the night, attracting countless envious eyes.

Why unnecessarily add trouble to oneself?

……

Late at night, on Fang Chongyong's bedroom bed, three people writhed under a large blanket like three worms.

"Go to sleep, what's going on with you?"

Fang Chongyong sighed; the two girls beside him, naked, clung tightly, their cool, smooth, soft touch continuous, leaving him unable to move.

"It's really cold, don't move; Alang is what I use specifically for warmth,"

Anaye whispered.

"Hehe, doesn't Alang know about the former Prince of Qi? In winter the Prince of Qi refused to warm himself with charcoal, finding it stifling. He first had the palace maids warm their bodies, then stripped their clothes and cuddled together for heat.

When a maid's body grew cold, he would replace her with another.

Now I hug Alang for warmth, merely imitating the Prince of Qi."

Wang Yunxiu laughed teasingly as she spoke. She knew many palace secrets; she could only say that the royal house is rife with ugliness, and beneath the glamorous façade lie filthy, sordid affairs.

"I must say, that Prince of Qi really knows how to have fun, and you two are quite playful as well."

Fang Chongyong said helplessly.

In the early hours, the three had exhausted all lewd bedroom games; now, tired and unwilling to move, the two girls used themselves as heaters.

"Hehe, truly only petty people and women are hard to raise!"

Fang Chongyong muttered inwardly, yet his arms squeezed the two women even tighter.

"Alang, charcoal in Chang'an is getting more expensive. Your salary last month no longer paid charcoal, but firewood. Though the quantity seems plenty, it doesn't burn well and produces a lot of smoke."

"Now merchants bring charcoal to our house daily—do we really refuse? What a pity! Back in Shazhou, whatever was sent, Alang accepted it all, except for women."

Anaye whispered.

These two women cling naked to Fang Chongyong for warmth, not because they're affectionate, but because the house can't afford floor heating!

"If we could afford floor heating, the three of us would already be drenched in sweat, sticky together. We'd end up disliking each other, not hugging tightly."

"Being an official in Chang'an, if you're not corrupt you truly can't afford charcoal for floor heating. The floor‑heater beneath our house hasn't been lit since winter began; the iron‑clad doors are covered in dust. There's no point in elaborating further."

Fang Chongyong shook his head helplessly and said. Under Ji Ge's watchful eye, this willful and ruthless sovereign would laugh if he didn't come to his house to snatch women; he wouldn't dare spend money frivolously.

The source of the huge income is unclear; if Ji Ge truly inquired, Fang Chongyong would have difficulty answering.

Just now Fang Chongyong merely described the miserable conditions of a Chang'an eighth‑rank official.

Since the Kaiyuan era, official salaries have been divided into two parts: monthly salary and grain allowance, plus various miscellaneous items.

It's hard to gauge the exact amount; people usually convert it into a number of bushels of grain.

Basically, if the salary doesn't include charcoal, an eighth‑rank official certainly won't buy charcoal on his own, because his wages can't afford it, nor can he use it.

If even Fang Chongyong can't afford floor heating without spending "gray income," how can ordinary officials survive winter without corruption?

Only Heaven knows.

"If only we could mine stone coal."

Fang Chongyong muttered to himself.

"Right, over in Hedong there's plenty of stone coal; the military camps are using it."

A couple of days ago my father wrote back asking how our married life was, and even mentioned the Hedong military camp.

Keeping warm over in Hedong is really convenient.

Wang Yunxiu couldn't help but complain. She actually doesn't like Chang'an at all—everything here is expensive, there are too many rules, and there's a lecherous emperor who messes around every day.

"Hedong? It's a bit far, and besides, distant water can't quench immediate thirst."

Fang Chongyong, like he was petting cats, placed both hands on the two girls' heads, ruffling their hair into a mess, while his mind was on something else.

At the rich gates, reeking of wine and meat, lie frozen corpses—actually, the main reason for this is that firewood prices in Chang'an have skyrocketed, and the poor can't afford to chop wood, so they can only freeze to death.

If we could bring coal from some place to Chang'an for use, maybe fewer people would freeze to death.

……

The next day, Fang Chongyong went to the Flower Calyx Radiance Pavilion of the Xingqing Palace, reported to Ji Ge on the recruitment of brave and sturdy men from Inside the Pass, and the assessment results disappointed Ji Ge greatly.

Such a huge Chang'an, yet not a single applicant passed!

"Sage, the weather is growing bitterly cold; my stipend is meager, I can't afford charcoal—please grant me some charcoal to survive the winter."

Seeing Li Longji lost in thought, Fang Chongyong clasped his fists in salute and pleaded.

"I suppose many people are now sending you money and charcoal, so you, Beloved Minister, must be skimming a bit—I'll pretend not to know."

Li Longji chuckled and shook his head, continuing: "My inner treasury also has no extra stock."

"Is charcoal really this tight now?"

Fang Chongyong feigned surprise and asked.

"Yes, Zheng Shuqing is incompetent; I truly misjudged him."

Li Longji said, very disappointed.

(End of Chapter)