Chapter 13: 013: The Greatest Brothel Under Heaven

The county yamen, the Punishment Office.

An old clerk came in holding a register, his tone slightly ingratiating: "Young master, here is the Great Ming Code."

"Thank you, sir." Zhao Han accepted it with both hands.

The old clerk smiled. "I dare not accept such courtesy."

Idle all day and bored out of his mind, Zhao Han had been thinking of getting a copy of the Great Ming Code to read.

First, it would kill time; second, it would help him refamiliarize himself with traditional characters; third, he could learn the legal fundamentals of the Ming dynasty.

The clerks at the yamen could not figure out Zhao Han's background. Some thought he was a junior relative of Fei Yinghuan, others thought he was a junior relative of Wang Yongshi — in any case, they were all quite deferential to Zhao Han and tacitly allowed him to come and go freely through every office of the yamen.

Borrowing authority like the fox borrowing the tiger's might — Zhao Han had thoroughly grasped the essence of it!

As for the matter of becoming a study companion, Zhao Han naturally did not discuss it with his little sister; Zhao Zhenfang would surely say, "Whatever Second Brother decides."

Working as someone's household slave, so long as he was not abused, actually posed no psychological burden for him at all.

At least it beat being a beggar — in another two or three months, winter would arrive. In the Little Ice Age, winters in the south were probably no picnic either. What if little sister fell ill with a fever again?

As long as he could grow to adulthood, he could simply walk away whenever he pleased!

A runaway slave would become an unregistered person?

Heh, he was originally a refugee anyway — it seemed there was nothing to lose.

What was more, the Great Ming was clearly on the verge of collapse. When the land filled with refugees, who knew, he might even be able to accomplish something great.

Living as a docile subject under Manchu Qing rule — Zhao Han did not consider himself blessed with that kind of fortune; the queue hairstyle with its money-rat tail was simply too hideous. He would inevitably have to resist. If he succeeded, all the better; if he failed, he would become a monk or take his little sister and flee overseas.

The reason he had not immediately agreed to Fei Yinghuan was purely that he wanted to wait for Wang Yongshi to return — what if Magistrate Wang could offer better terms?

Sitting in the Punishment Office, Zhao Han opened the Great Ming Code.

The opening was a preface personally written by Zhu Yuanzhang, expounding the original intent and significance of promulgating the Great Ming Code, immediately followed by the ritual regulations for mourning one's elders.

The five grades of mourning garments: unhemmed sackcloth, hemmed sackcloth, major merit, minor merit, and fine hemp.

In essence, based on closeness of kinship, one wore mourning for the deceased, with each type of mourning garment differing in style.

Zhao Han could guess his way through without much difficulty, but some terminology remained incomprehensible. He could only consult the old Punishment Office clerk: "Sir, stepmother, foster mother, primary mother, birth mother, concubine mother — these I can all understand. But to whom does 'compassionate mother' specifically refer?"

The old clerk patiently explained: "When a primary mother or birth mother dies of illness, and the child is raised by the father's concubine, that concubine becomes that child's compassionate mother."

"So that is how it is." Zhao Han suddenly saw the light.

Judicial terminology indeed differed from common usage — it required a specialist to explain.

When Zhao Han finished reading the "Mourning Regulations" section, he could not help but sigh at the tedious complexity of ritual doctrine.

For example, if a concubine could bear a son, the husband's other children were required to address that concubine as "concubine mother." If she could not bear a son, she lacked the qualification to be a "concubine mother" and also failed to obtain her due status within the household. Truly, the mother's worth rested on her son!

Reading further, Zhao Han suddenly perked up.

Well now — the section on death by slow slicing!

And there were quite a few entries for slow slicing, not limited only to crimes like high treason.

If, without any cause, one killed three or more members of a single household, the presiding judge could directly sentence the offender to death by slow slicing. A son or grandson who beat an elder to death could also be sentenced to slow slicing.

If an elder died and one took in the elder's wife or concubine — decapitation!

If a brother died and one took in the sister-in-law — strangulation!

Zhao Han asked the old clerk: "Sir, this taking in of a brother's wife — surely it would not actually result in a strangulation sentence?"

The old clerk smiled. "The law is dead; people are alive. In a poor household, if the elder brother dies and the sister-in-law is widowed, struggling to raise her children, and the younger brother has no money to take a wife — what harm is there in taking the sister-in-law? It is a matter where everyone is happy. If the people do not bring suit, the officials do not pursue it."

This statement could also be understood in reverse: a younger brother taking his sister-in-law violated ritual doctrine — if the people brought suit, the officials would certainly pursue it!

Continuing to read on, Zhao Han was somewhat alarmed.

Beating an elder sibling or senior relative within the four degrees of mourning, causing severe injury — regardless of the reason, strangulation!

The Great Ming Code was indeed draconian.

Having only finished three sections in the Punishment Office during the day, Zhao Han picked up the legal tome, intending to take it to the yamen's inner residence to continue reading.

Before leaving, Zhao Han suddenly asked: "May I ask, sir, what is the household registration status of a bondman (servant)?"

The old clerk paused, then explained in detail: "Household registration has primary and secondary distinctions. A bondman who lives together with the master is attached to the master's primary household register and regarded as equivalent to the master's sons and grandsons. A bondman who owns land and lives separately is registered under the master's secondary household and regarded as equivalent to the master's hired laborer. Additionally, if a bondman or bondmaid has not been adopted for long, they are also regarded as equivalent to the master's hired laborer."

Zhao Han frowned. "What is a hired laborer?"

The old clerk explained: "That is not easy to delineate. A hired laborer falls between the free and the base — neither free nor base, both free and base. During the term of hire, they are base, dependent upon the master's household, their status even lower than that of a household slave. If the hire contract is dissolved, they may become a free commoner, and their descendants may also sit for the civil examinations."

Well, well — Zhao Han's eyes were thoroughly opened.

This "hired laborer" was not the same as the ordinary hired laborer; it was a Ming legal term, colloquially called a "hireling slave," not an ordinary working person in society.

Hired laborers were not regarded by the master's household as their own people, and were therefore often treated harshly — even household slaves could bully them. But at least they retained a hope: they did not have to change their ancestral surname, and their descendants could still normally sit for the civil examinations!

In theory, when the hire term expired, the hired laborer could freely leave.

In reality, however, hired laborers invariably suffered harsh treatment from their masters and could save virtually no money at all. Without financial means, there was naturally no talk of establishing an independent household — they were better off honestly being a household slave.

"Many thanks for your instruction, sir." Holding the Great Ming Code, Zhao Han strode toward the yamen's inner residence.

Wang Yongshi had returned to the county seat, but he rarely came back to the yamen.

This gentleman was audacious to the extreme — he had actually withheld the already-collected summer grain tax, refusing to forward it to Hejian Prefecture. Instead, he used these funds and grain to relieve the county's disaster victims, and submitted a memorial begging the Emperor to reduce or remit taxes.

If taxes were not handed over, his performance evaluation was certain to fail.

Wang Yongshi was staking his own career to save the lives of countless disaster victims!

Not only that, wielding the authority from executing the Registrar and exterminating the bandits, he forced grain merchants to stabilize grain prices and compelled wealthy households to donate money and grain. For a time, the gentry seethed, and complaints filled the air.

With money, grain, and manpower, Wang Yongshi established public granaries and lent grain and seed to disaster victims.

For disaster victims who truly had no fields to till, he implemented a "relief-through-work" method, setting them to repair the county seat, then to dredge the irrigation canals, and to rebuild the long-abandoned Tangguantun post station.

So busy that the days blurred into darkness, Magistrate Wang had long since forgotten all about Zhao Han.

Even Fei Yinghuan did not see Wang Yongshi again until half a month later.

Wang Yongshi looked haggard and worn, as if he had aged considerably. He smiled and said, "Brother Dazhao, you certainly have the life of a wealthy young master — your days are so leisurely and comfortable."

Fei Yinghuan sighed, "Ah, Brother Qizhao, why push yourself so hard? That black gauze cap of yours probably won't stay on your head past next year."

Wang Yongshi was somewhat resigned, but still managed a smile. Feigning lightness, he said, "I simply don't have the fate to be an official. It's just as well to be dismissed early and return home. One man losing his post is better than ten thousand commoners losing their lives — that reckoning comes out quite favorable. As the Buddhists say, saving one life surpasses building a seven-story pagoda. This time I've built a hundred-thousand-story pagoda; perhaps it will let my descendants enjoy some blessed fortune."

Fei Yinghuan was speechless. He could only straighten his robes and cap and bow deeply to Wang Yongshi from the waist.

Wang Yongshi smiled faintly. "I've already sent my private secretary to Hejian Prefecture to maneuver with the Prefect and the Censor. I only hope this official's cap can stay on through next spring, so the people won't face the lean months and suffer another damn famine."

Fei Yinghuan's heart was heavy. Ashamed, he said, "Brother Qizhao, your heart is bound to the myriad common folk — I am not your equal."

Wang Yongshi suddenly burst into loud laughter. "Anyway, I bought this County Magistrate post with silver and connections. Lost is lost — it's merely a loss of some silver cash, no different from tossing it at a singsong girl in a brothel."

Fei Yinghuan was finally amused. Smiling, he said, "The officials of the Ministry of Personnel are indeed like singsong girls — give them enough silver and they never refuse a caller."

Wang Yongshi laughed even more heartily. "Put that way, the Ministry of Personnel is the number one brothel under heaven!"

Fei Yinghuan chimed in, "The Minister is the madam, and the Vice Minister is the pimp."

"Hahahahaha!" Wang Yongshi laughed until tears streamed down his face. Suddenly he said through gritted teeth, "Brother Dazhao, after all our years of bitter study by cold windows, are we whores or patrons?"

Fei Yinghuan muttered, "Whores, I suppose."

Wang Yongshi said, "Even if I'm a whore, I want to be Liang Hongyu."

Fei Yinghuan curled his lip. "Then I could at best be Su Xiaoxiao."

"Su Xiaoxiao is enough," Wang Yongshi said with grief and indignation. "Of all the officials under heaven, most are worse than whores. To become a famed courtesan of an age is no easy thing already."

The two sat close in deep conversation, and in the end simply sat drinking atop the city gate tower.

The setting sun sank down.

Fei Yinghuan patted his backside and rose. Cupping his fists, he said, "Brother Qizhao, your elder brother has come to bid farewell."

"When do you leave?" Wang Yongshi asked.

Fei Yinghuan said, "Tomorrow."

Wang Yongshi said, "I wish you a smooth journey."

Fei Yinghuan said, "That boy who presented the strategy for defeating the enemy — I intend to take him as my son's study companion. He hasn't given an answer; I expect he's been waiting all along to see you."

Wang Yongshi frowned. "Why take advantage of someone's misfortune like that?"

Fei Yinghuan said, "It is indeed taking advantage. But my Fei clan has declined to this state, and my son is a born fool. If I die one day, my son will surely be unable to hold onto the Goose Lake Fei family estate; sooner or later it will be swallowed whole by other branches of the lineage. I must leave my son a guardian minister."

"Brother Dazhao, you've certainly gone to great pains," Wang Yongshi said with understanding.

Fei Yinghuan said, "This boy is exceptionally sharp-witted; in days to come he will surely be no creature of the pond. If he truly possesses heaven-spanning, earth-weaving talent, I will also help him soar to the clouds, making him a powerful ally for my Goose Lake Fei clan. If he proves to be merely above average, he can still assist my son in holding the family estate. Either way, I won't lose out."

Wang Yongshi laughed. "You've certainly worked out a fine scheme. Very well, I'll send someone to give him twenty taels of official silver, and help you, Brother Dazhao, sever his lingering hopes." As he spoke, he added with mocking sarcasm, "Cultivate this boy well — who knows, he might enter the Grand Secretariat as a minister. Then you can arrange a marriage alliance, and won't your Yanshan Fei clan flourish once more?"

Fei Yinghuan did not know whether to laugh or cry. "Brother Qizhao, must you keep mocking me?"

Wang Yongshi spat out a curse. "You're a scoundrel. Two juren, scheming against a mere child. Shameless and brazen — utterly without decency!"

Fei Yinghuan defended himself. "Scheme or not, I've done nothing against heaven or reason. I even saved the lives of those two siblings."

"If it weren't for that, I wouldn't be helping you at all," Wang Yongshi burst out, cursing again. "You slippery dog, at least you still have a shred of conscience left. Not like the beasts filling the court, whose consciences have all been eaten by dogs!"

(Asking for recommendation tickets and monthly tickets. Trying out some high-tech — I heard this can link to the voting page.)

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(End of chapter)