Chapter 84: Cruel Exploitation

Early the next morning, Zhang Xiaofan and Zhang Chu’an packed their belongings and prepared to leave; upon hearing the news, farmers from surrounding villages came to see them off.

“Sir, you really must leave? You never robbed or plundered, never bullied the weak or oppressed women—you’ve never done a single bad thing. Why would the authorities arrest you?”

A simple farmer spoke with a trembling, tearful voice.

“When they want to condemn you, they’ll find any excuse. In days past, Yue Fei, the great Song general who resisted the Jin, was innocent—yet Qin Gui still had him executed on a fabricated charge. When we stand in their way, we become guilty—guilty of capital crimes, beyond redemption.”

“Out of gratitude for the time we spent teaching you to read and write, don’t beg us to stay.” With that, Zhang Chu’an and Zhang Xiaofan slung their packs and strode away.

Watching their retreating figures, everyone returned home reluctantly—back to eating, back to laboring. After all, most of them could now read, calculate accounts, and understand imperial law; they would no longer be fooled as they once had been.

Their lives would surely improve—until the imperial clerks and landlords arrived, accompanied by Jurchen nobles.

The landlord, who normally lorded over the countryside with his cudgel-wielding henchmen, now cleared the path for the Jurchen noble, while county constables served as his attendants and the magistrate’s head bailiff held his horse.

These humble villagers, faced with such power, could only crawl on the ground, daring not to raise their heads.

The Jurchen noble merely waved his hand, and the ferocious bailiffs drove the villagers from several nearby villages forward like sheep.

When enough people had gathered, the Jurchen noble yawned and ordered the bailiffs to display two portraits before the crowd.

The men in the portraits were none other than Zhang Xiaofan and Zhang Chu’an; the villagers below began whispering among themselves.

“Silence!”

The Jurchen noble on the platform roared; the bailiffs tasked with maintaining order swung their cudgels and beat several whispering villagers half to death. The entire assembly fell instantly silent.

Seeing the subdued crowd, the Jurchen noble, the chief clerk, and the landlord nodded in satisfaction. This was how it should be—these mud-footed peasants must be terrified to be properly controlled.

At the Jurchen noble’s signal, the chief clerk stepped forward and shouted: “Fellow villagers, the two men in these portraits have been roaming the countryside, spreading heresy and inciting the people to riot. All lands under our county’s jurisdiction have paid taxes and land rents as required—except here. After review by the county magistrate, these two are traitors of the highest order. If captured, they will be hanged.”

“Now, that’s our first matter here. The second: you mud-footed peasants delayed paying your taxes. These sums were advanced by Master Li and Master Wang. Now, with interest compounded, the debt is substantial. It’s an ancient rule: debts must be repaid. Today, you will pay these masters back.”

“If you have no money, it’s no matter. The Jurchen lord says: if you sell yourselves into his service, he will settle all your debts. Now, I shall call your names—those who can pay, step forward.”

As soon as the chief clerk finished, someone in the crowd shouted back: “Chief Clerk, we didn’t delay our taxes! We paid exactly as imperial law requires—every copper coin, no less!”

“Insolent! Do you think you, mud-footed peasants, know imperial law better than I, the chief clerk? Ah, I see—you’re an accomplice of those traitors! Seize him! Cut off his head—and hang it at the village gate so these mud-footed peasants see what happens when they defy the authorities!” No sooner had the chief clerk spoken than the bailiffs surged into the crowd, dragging out the man who had spoken.

With a wet slash, the man’s massive head rolled to the ground; sorrow spread through the crowd. Had their childhood friend—the man who climbed trees with them, tilled fields beside them—been so casually slaughtered?

Hatred stirred within them, but when they saw the bailiffs like wolves and tigers, and the Jurchen noble seated arrogantly on the dais, their inner resistance was crushed beneath despair.

A flock of sheep, however numerous, cannot stand against a butcher with a knife. The chief clerk continued calling names from his platform; those who could pay handed over their coins, those who could not sold their belongings, and when even that wasn’t enough, they sold their land.

Those who couldn’t sell their land were sold into slavery to the Jurchen noble. Naturally, the villagers could not pay. By the time the chief clerk finished collecting arrears from these villages, three hundred able-bodied men had become Jurchen slaves.

Seeing so many slaves, the Jurchen noble nearly split his lips grinning. This trip was truly worth it—slaves could work for him, and more importantly, gave him legitimate grounds to seize more land. These slaves meant vast new fields for him.

No one here came away empty-handed: the bailiffs and chief clerk received generous bribes from the landlords; the landlords seized the land of countless self-cultivating farmers; the Jurchens gained slaves to expand their holdings. A triple victory.

As for the families who lost their able-bodied men—none of them cared.

On the march to the Jurchen noble’s estate, many wept with faces covered, unsure if they would survive, uncertain whether their households would collapse without their prime laborers.

“I regret it—I should have listened to Master Zhang! Li the Skin-Flayer and these dog-officials never gave us a chance to reason. Had I known, I’d have taken my whole family and followed Master Zhang away.”

“Come on, Yang Hao, don’t talk like that. Master Zhang only ended up on the wanted list because he tried to help us. A fine scholar, forced into exile as a fugitive.”

“This damned world—why do scoundrels like Li the Skin-Flayer feast on fine food, take three wives and four concubines, and pass their privilege to sons and grandsons? Yet good men like Master Zhang are branded as bandits.”

“Who can deny it? The old saying holds true: murderers and arsonists wear gold belts; those who build bridges and pave roads leave no corpses.”

Night had fallen. The escorting bailiffs and the Jurchen noble decided to rest at the post station overnight and resume the journey tomorrow. Upon arriving, the Jurchen noble ordered the station master to guard the slaves, then retired to rest.

The station master, practiced in the task, herded the slaves into the stable. The thick stench of horse dung nearly overwhelmed them; the thought of sleeping here one night—no, of spending the rest of their lives in such filth—filled each man with despair.

What meaning was there in living like beasts?