Chapter 113: 111 [The Arrogant Eccentric] (For the Alliance Leader

White Egret Islet Academy stood on a river islet, reachable by ferry.

Xiao Huan followed Zhao Han toward the ferry crossing, speaking as they walked: "If you seek men of talent, sir, there is no need to go to White Egret Islet — and even if you go, it will do no good."

"Why?" Zhao Han asked.

Xiao Huan explained: "Within White Egret Islet Academy, the truly outstanding men are all juren. And right now those juren are on their way to the capital for the examinations; they won't be back until at least the fifth month of next year."

"Busy with rebellion — I'd clean forgotten that," Zhao Han said with a self-mocking laugh, then asked, "Are there no outstanding men among the xiucai?"

Xiao Huan countered: "Even if there were, would you truss them up and drag them into rebellion?"

"True enough — how could a son of a great house follow a rebel?" Zhao Han sighed. "Ah, but since I'm here, I must at least take a look. This is where Chancellor Wen (Wen Tianxiang) studied as a youth."

Boarding the ferry, in less than a moment Zhao Han had reached White Egret Islet.

Because White Egret Islet Academy sat mid-river, it had been destroyed by floods many times; the academy before them had been rebuilt in the nineteenth year of Wanli.

It was a complex of buildings, standing between the hills and the water.

Entering by the main gate, one faced three shrines straight ahead, dedicated respectively to great Confucians (Establishing Virtue), loyal martyrs (Establishing Integrity), and renowned ministers (Establishing Merit).

The teachers and students of the ten study halls — all those still on the islet — had been "invited" over.

A crowd of scholars stood there, glaring at Zhao Han with fury in their eyes.

Zhao Han paid them no heed. He bowed with clasped hands and made obeisance to the worthies of the three shrines, then in the shrine for loyal ministers he found the spirit tablet of Wen Tianxiang.

"Bring paper and brush!" Zhao Han said.

The soldiers had come prepared; they stepped forward bearing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Trapped in the academy by rebels with no way to leave, the scholars had at first been utterly indignant. Seeing Zhao Han bow to the worthies of the three shrines, the crowd softened slightly, feeling this rebel was not entirely without merit.

Now as Zhao Han lifted the brush to write, the many scholars grew rather curious.

Setting down the brush, Zhao Han turned and asked: "Where is the headmaster of White Egret Islet Academy?"

A young scholar laughed: "Gone with the Governor to kill rebels — he's at Three Rivers Mouth supervising the transport of provisions. Traitors and rebel scum, every man has the right to slay them!"

"Unfortunate timing, then — I'll seek him out another day," Zhao Han said, not angered, and asked with a smile, "This man is quite bold. What is his background?"

Xiao Huan introduced him: "Ouyang Zheng, a juren of Anfu County, with ancestral roots in Qianjiang, Huguang."

Zhao Han was somewhat surprised: "You even know his ancestral home? He seems to be quite famous."

Xiao Huan explained: "This man is a child prodigy, and also an arrogant eccentric — he has long been renowned throughout Ji'an. He passed the child prodigy examination at thirteen, passed the juren examination at eighteen, and to this day has never passed the jinshi examination. He ought to be on his way to the capital for the exams right now, yet for some reason he is still in Ji'an."

"In what way is he arrogant?" Zhao Han asked.

"He wrote an essay — I can even recite it," Xiao Huan said, and promptly declaimed: "'All my life I have been an old bookworm, unwilling to die a dried-up glowworm on a desk. My private regret is that through the ages there have been so few true readers of books. From the beginning, Confucian scholars have all clung to fragments and defended the obsolete, forming cliques around deadwood and protecting the rotten, until they have become so fossilized they cannot change, their arguments mostly pedantic. When they transmit their learning and open their tombs, poetry and rites are their ladder; when they seize gold in broad daylight, the examination system is the chief culprit. Inner bandits and outer foes alike all use men of our sort as their pretext, and the seed of true scholarship seems to have perished!'"

Translated into plain speech, the gist was: Confucian scholars mostly cling to fragments and defend the obsolete, form cliques for selfish ends, and their thinking is pedantic and rigid. The classics and poetry are merely a stepping-stone to office; the civil examinations are merely a convenience for raking in money. When outer foes and inner bandits rise up, they all use such scholars as their excuse, saying they were driven to rebellion by corrupt and incompetent officials. True scholars, it seems, no longer exist.

Zhao Han burst out laughing: "This is a true scholar!"

Xiao Huan immediately threw cold water on Zhao Han: "Sir, this man could never follow a rebel. The Ouyang clan is a great local lineage."

Ouyang Zheng's grandfather was merely a country gentry, having not even passed the xiucai examination, yet incoming officials were all somehow coaxed into marriage alliances. The eldest son married the daughter of a Provincial Education Commissioner, the second son married the daughter of a Regional Inspector Censor, the third son married the daughter of a Prefect. Ouyang Zheng's father was the fourth son; at the time he married the daughter of a County Magistrate, and that magistrate later rose to be Administration Vice Commissioner of Shandong.

A marriage-and-kin network of officials and gentry had thus taken shape.

Zhao Han had someone deliver the couplet he had written to Ouyang Zheng, and asked: "Is this calligraphy still passable?"

"'A righteous spirit yet remains, filling heaven and earth; a loyal heart endures forever, illuminating past and present,'" Ouyang Zheng read the couplet aloud, then with a cold laugh tore it to shreds. "A rebel — is he even worthy of composing an inscription for Chancellor Wen? If Chancellor Wen knew of this beneath the springs, he would not close his eyes in death!"

Seeing the couplet Zhao Han had written torn to pieces, the assembled students were at once terrified, fearing this would provoke Zhao Han to kill on the spot.

Zhao Han did not grow angry; instead he asked: "I raised my banner only at Huangjia Town, and did not sweep through the countryside press-ganging people. Why is it that in a mere few months, half of Luling County has risen in revolt? I came all the way from Meitang Town and killed only a few notoriously evil landlords — why have the common people in those places also joined the rebellion?"

Ouyang Zheng dared not answer, for he knew exactly what the reason was.

"Hmph, you don't even dare speak the truth — a man who fishes for fame and reputation!" Zhao Han finished speaking and walked away; he had come only to pay his respects to Wen Tianxiang.

Feeling himself scorned by a rebel, Ouyang Zheng could not help saying: "It is all because greedy officials and corrupt clerks have exploited the common people to excess. If we scholars can have our names inscribed on the golden roster, we shall surely diligently cultivate virtuous governance and let the common people live and work in peace."

Zhao Han halted his steps and asked: "Do tenant farmers count as common people?"

"Of course they are common people," Ouyang Zheng said.

Zhao Han laughed coldly: "Tenant farmers have no land of their own. They are crushed by the landlords' heavy rents and high interest, and on top of that there are numerous extortionate customs — shift-tillage, winter livestock, bean cakes, grain delivery, and more. Even without greedy officials and corrupt clerks bleeding them, can they survive? If you diligently cultivate virtuous governance, can you make the landlords lower rents and reduce interest? Can you make the landlords abolish those extortionate customs?"

Shift-tillage: seizing tenancy by demanding advance rent — if the rent was not paid in advance, the tenant land was taken back.

Winter livestock: at every winter solstice festival, the tenant farmer had to send gifts to the landlord, usually poultry such as chickens, ducks, and geese.

Bean cakes: at New Year's, the tenant farmer had to send glutinous rice cakes to the landlord.

Grain delivery: transporting the land tax to the county yamen — this was originally the landlord's responsibility, yet it was entirely shifted onto the tenant farmers, making them bear the losses from grain wastage and meltage fees.

These practices came in endless variety. Over in southern Jiangxi, tenant farmers even had to send gifts to the landlord when marrying off a daughter — suspected to be a civilized variant of the droit du seigneur.

Faced with Zhao Han's questioning, Ouyang Zheng was speechless, for his own family were great landlords.

Zhao Han mocked: "You say Confucian scholars cling to fragments and defend the obsolete, that most are pedantic and rigid — are you not one yourself? You are merely a bit more clear-eyed, but that is all you are: clear-eyed. What have you ever done for the common people under heaven?"

"I…" Ouyang Zheng clenched both hands, wanting to refute this rebel, yet he could find no argument.

Because everything Zhao Han had just said was precisely the reason for his usual anguish!

He knew this court was beyond saving, and he knew where the crux of the problem lay, yet he was utterly powerless to do anything about it.

Historically, this man passed the jinshi examination in the tenth year of Chongzhen and was sent out as County Magistrate of Jiangdu. Against court pressure he imposed no additional taxes, nor did he levy the bandit-suppression surtax on the common people. He also organized the building of dikes and the digging of canals. He cleared the county's backlog of cases and did his utmost to eliminate wrongful convictions. Later transferred to Hua County, he used conciliatory measures to bring tens of thousands of bandits (refugees who had turned to banditry) into submission, distributing land to these refugees to farm.

When Chongzhen hanged himself, Ouyang Zheng followed suit and tried to kill himself, but was rescued by colleagues and fell gravely ill.

That same year, Ouyang Zheng surrendered to the Manchu Qing. While presiding over the Henan provincial examination, a candidate wrote "Prince Regent Dorgon" as "Royal Uncle Dorgon," and Ouyang Zheng was implicated and thrown into prison — this was the first literary inquisition of the Qing dynasty.

He was a very typical traditional civil official: a child prodigy by origin, full of high aspirations in his youth, protecting the realm and bringing peace to the people while in office. He had once followed Chongzhen in suicide; having died once, he began to cherish his life, and surrendering to foreign invaders carried no psychological burden whatsoever.

Zhao Han did not waste more words on the scholars. As he was leaving, he suddenly said: "Tie up that arrogant eccentric and take him along — let him see how I govern the people!"

Ouyang Zheng tried to struggle, but was at once pinned to the ground by soldiers, bound hand and foot, and taken away from White Egret Islet.

On the ferry.

Xiao Huan said with a grin: "Brother Xianwen, don't be afraid — Mr. Zhao does not kill people lightly."

Ouyang Zheng, his hands and feet all tied, glared furiously at Xiao Huan: "You disgrace the name of a scholar — to have thrown in your lot with a rebel!"

Xiao Huan said with deep feeling, "I'm not like you, born into a prominent family, able to take the civil examinations without a care. To pay for my father's medical treatment, I had no choice but to grit my teeth and borrow from loan sharks, and then I was forced to work as a legal trickster for the strike gangs. Tell me, since I've already been a beast of burden for the strike gangs, what's so strange about surrendering to rebels?"

"Utterly devoid of a scholar's integrity — you deserve to die!" Ouyang Zheng said with contempt.

Xiao Huan turned flippant again: "If I had integrity, I'd have starved to death long ago. Would I still be here talking to you today?"

Ouyang Zheng said, "If I were you, I would jump into the Gan River and be done with it!"

Xiao Huan sneered. "If you die, it's nothing — your family has plenty of people to look after your parents. But if I die, will you support my widowed mother? Will you support the orphan and his mother? You, a son of a great clan — you speak so lightly!"

Ouyang Zheng had no retort. This touched on filial piety, a subject one could not speak of carelessly.

Xiao Huan pointed toward the docks south of the city. "Look over there. The markets have already recovered, and the merchant ships that fled have returned to load cargo. Have you ever seen rebels like these?"

Ouyang Zheng struggled to sit up, and sure enough, he saw the docks as bustling as ever.

His face showed shock and dread. He now regarded Zhao Han as a mortal threat to the court. To capture a prefectural city without looting it, and instead swiftly restore order — these were no ordinary rebels!

Zhao Han stood at the prow of a boat at that moment, observing the situation at the docks.

Xiao Huan pointed at Zhao Han and said in a low voice, "Brother Xianwen, this man is a heroic sovereign. Can you believe it?"

"This man is a bandit chieftain!" Ouyang Zheng was still stubborn.

"Pedantic," Xiao Huan said with scorn. "The present court is a great mansion on the verge of collapse. Fools like you, how terribly shortsighted you are — sooner or later you'll be crushed to death when the old house comes down. Given time, my lord will surely sweep the realm clean and forge a new world of radiant order!"

Ouyang Zheng jeered, "You're already dreaming of being a founding chancellor? More likely you'll be purged among the meritorious ministers!"

Xiao Huan laughed cheerfully. "Don't try your clumsy stratagems to sow discord. If I could be a founding minister, what would it matter if my nine clans were exterminated? At least I, your father, would have known glory. Isn't that a hundred times better than being a legal trickster for the strike gangs?"

"Arrogant scoundrel! Madman!" Ouyang Zheng spat.

Xiao Huan shot back, "Who in this world is not mad?"

Just as the two were speaking, a sudden commotion erupted outside the south gate of the city.

It was Chen Maosheng, who had already entered the city. Leading political workers, he was going door to door spreading the Great Unity ideology, and many household slaves with no family ties were eagerly joining the army.

And, while they were at it, giving their former masters a savage beating!

(End of chapter)