Chapter 83: Jin State

At the founding of the Jin dynasty, Emperor Taizu abolished the “guoxiang” system of the tribal alliance and established the Jurchen traditional Bojile system as the central governing structure. After occupying the Liao’s Dongjing prefectures and counties in 1116, he issued an edict: “Abolish Liao laws, reduce taxes and corvée, and establish Meng’an-Mouke units exactly as in our own state.”

Meng’an and Mouke were the military and social organizational units of the Jin state; “Meng’an” meant “thousand,” serving as both Battalion Commander men and head of a thousand-household unit. These were originally military leaders formed in the late primitive society for raiding and hunting, later evolving into fixed military organizations.

But once the Jin entered the Han lands of Yan and Yun, this Jurchen system proved unworkable, so they retained the existing Han bureaucratic system, adopting a dual system that upheld both Jurchen traditions and Han institutions. The so-called “Southern Officials” of early Jin referred to the Han-style Secretariat system.

Over time, Meng’an-Mouke households that originally relied on slave labor gradually transformed into landlords. This transformation primarily involved land allocation, taxation, and distinctions between commoners and slaves, allowing Jurchen nobles to expand their landholdings through the “land-seizure policy.”

Land allocation was the fundamental system of Jurchen slavery regarding land ownership. Slave owners received varying amounts of farmland based on the number of slaves and livestock they possessed. The system stipulated that for every one team of oxen (three head) and twenty-five household members, one received four qing and four mu of land. “Household members” included both slaves and commoners from Jurchen tribes and clans. The more slaves and livestock a slave owner held, the more land he could legally claim.

Under these conditions, an increasing number of Han people became Jurchen slaves. Moreover, the Jin state frequently sacrificed Han interests to aid the Jurchens, forcibly relocating populations from surrendered regions to the interior. These displaced residents, unable to sustain themselves, were forced to sell themselves into slavery.

The Jurchens took this opportunity to seize the most fertile Han farmlands. To meet their growing living and military expenses, they continually increased the tax and corvée burdens on the Han population.

The conflict between Han and Jurchen peoples, as historical records state, led to bandits filling the countryside; those who had once relied on state authority to oppress others were now seen by the people as blood enemies, to be revenged upon without mercy.

Thieves and bandits filled the wilds; those who had once wielded state power to suppress others were now viewed as enemies with blood-deep grudges, and the people would not rest until they had exacted revenge.

After arriving in Weizhou, Shandong, Zhang Chu’an and Zhang Xiaofan did not rush to seize a mountain and declare themselves kings, nor did they use their formidable martial strength to seize land from the rich and distribute it among the poor—they opened night schools instead.

The people of Huaxia held deep, ingrained respect for scholars; they could not refuse a place that neither interfered with their farming nor charged tuition.

Although they did not expect to pass the imperial exams or become scholar-officials, learning to read at least enabled them to understand contracts and not be deceived like blind men. Moreover, they taught not only literacy but also accounting—skills that, once mastered, could at least secure a livelihood as an accountant.

Thus, before long, farmers from surrounding villages brought their children to attend classes. With so many students but only two teachers, Master Zhang Chu’an devised a method: farmers would elect their own representatives to learn here, then return to teach the others who had chosen them—learning and teaching simultaneously.

To attend, one needed the endorsement of twenty farmers. When evaluating progress, they examined not only the representative’s own learning but also his teaching ability; if a representative withheld knowledge, the farmers could elect a new one.

This method received unanimous praise from the surrounding villages, but it deeply displeased the local landlords, who had previously been the ones to read official proclamations aloud—allowing them to manipulate and deceive as they pleased.

Now, however, the peasants could read for themselves, which infuriated them. Moreover, these two new private school masters were thoroughly familiar with the current laws; all the legal loopholes they had exploited before were now useless.

One night, after class, each representative placed a piece of cured pork on Master Zhang’s lectern.

Zhang Chu’an looked at them curiously, until one representative, named Ma Gui, stepped forward and said:

“Master Zhang, in ancient times, Confucius accepted five pieces of cured pork from each student. But we are poor—even one piece is beyond us. Yet you have truly taught us: you taught us to read and calculate, and you used the law to protect us from corrupt clerks. This year, for the first time, we have saved some grain and money. Each household pooled a little to buy this pork, and we, the representatives, bring it to you.”

“Oh, I see,” said Zhang Chu’an. “Take this pork back. Return it if you can.”

The representatives urgently replied: “How can we return it? Without you, we wouldn’t have saved a single coin—we’d still owe the landlord two taels of silver!”

“You yourselves said that without us two, you’d still owe the landlord two taels. Those with land could be forced to sell it to landlords; those who rented land could be sold by landlords to the Jurchens at inflated prices. With all this money gone, would the landlords be content? And the Jurchens, who could previously acquire land by purchasing slaves, now cannot—would they be willing?”

“Count the days—the landlords will join forces with the Jurchens to pressure the officials, fabricate charges against us, and then against you, forcing you to hand over your grain and money. Return the pork now. If you can’t pay, you’ll be sold into slavery. If you have sons, it’s bad enough; if you have none, your entire family will be wiped out—all your property seized, your wife and daughters sold into brothels. Take the pork back. Return it.”

Zhang Chu’an sighed and urged them. The representatives lowered their heads, walked to the lectern, took the pork, and left. Watching them go, Zhang Xiaofan could not help asking: “Do you think these people truly have the courage to resist?”

“Who wouldn’t want to live if there were hope? But the greed of exploiters and oppressors is destined to drain every drop of blood from these people—and those who dare resist will be utterly exterminated.” Along the way, Zhang Chu’an had come to understand their greed and arrogance well.

These people would squeeze every possible drop from any opportunity, leaving nothing untouched. The long-term submissiveness of the proletariat had made them arrogant, convinced that these people were cowardly, timid, and would never rise up.

But they forgot: when pushed to the brink of total loss, these people will finally pick up weapons and stand. At that moment, the arrogant will discover they have lost even the chance to kneel and beg for mercy.