Chapter 16: 016 Jingkou Post Station

Zhenjiang, Jingkou Post Station.

Both are waterway post stations, but while Yangqing Post Station ate the Jinghai County treasury alive, Jingkou Post Station raked in gold by the bucketful every day.

The post buildings along the bank were practically garden-style hotels, even boasting three opera stages and regularly hiring troupes to perform. This was no mere post station — it was plainly a giant all-in-one entertainment complex!

Not just on shore, but on the water too — the passenger boats at the canal mouth were also part of the post station's holdings.

Traveling merchants didn't even need to disembark; they could stay directly on the large passenger boats. On board, food, lodging, and entertainment were all provided, and famous courtesans could even be summoned — slender or voluptuous, you simply browsed a picture album, guaranteed to let you savor all the splendors of Zhenjiang without ever setting foot off the boat.

Just how large was Jingkou Post Station?

Over a hundred post rooms, more than thirty boats, over seventy horses, three pavilions, three open-sided halls, three opera stages, twenty-six stables, one Daoist temple (the Horse King Hall), and over five hundred post runners, grooms, boatmen, hall stewards, cooks, and sedan-chair bearers. It also had a sedan-chair room, dining hall, veterinary room, prisoner holding room, fodder room, Xiao Wang Hall, and more. Over at Guazhou there was a branch office, with multiple boat sheds and stables.

The postmaster of Jingkou Post Station wouldn't even trade his post for a County Magistrate's seat!

The merchant boat Zhao Han's party had hired stopped at Zhenjiang and went no further, mooring to unload cargo and do business.

That fellow Fei Yinghuan, spending freely as ever, couldn't be bothered to go ashore and find a cheap inn. He simply moved straight into one of the post station's luxury passenger boats and waited to switch to a vessel bound for Jiujiang.

At this rate of spending, the silver borrowed from Wang Yongshi would likely be gone before they even made it back to Yanshan.

The guest room.

Fei Yinghuan was savoring a piece in the Qigong style and said to Zhao Han, "Write out another one — 'Bring in the Wine.'"

Zhao Han immediately opened his Tang Poetry Anthology and earnestly began copying the poem, incidentally familiarizing himself with the corresponding traditional characters.

In truth, Zhao Han's calligraphy was passable; he had put in hard work at a training class in elementary school. Fei Yinghuan's earlier disparagement was purely a matter of the Qigong style's brushstroke issues — his character forms and structure were quite solid. If he truly wrote poorly, why would Young Master Fei have taken it to study?

As Zhao Han wielded the brush, Fei Yinghuan appraised the calligraphy in his hand and remarked, "The form of this character 'chan' clearly derives from the monk Zhiyong, yet with slight modifications — the composition is solid and of high quality..."

The fellow was deconstructing characters, familiarizing himself with the structural forms of the Qigong style, and every day he had Zhao Han keep writing out new characters.

The Qigong style looks somewhat ugly at first glance, yet somehow beautiful upon a second look — Fei Yinghuan had never managed to figure out why, because he had no idea what the golden ratio was.

Analyzed from a scientific angle, the Qigong style sacrifices brushstrokes so that the character structure presents itself according to the golden ratio.

Having at last finished writing "Bring in the Wine," Zhao Han asked, "Young Master, shall I write more?"

"No need. We'll continue tomorrow." Fei Yinghuan stared at the characters in his hand, not even bothering to lift his head.

Zhao Han rubbed his sore wrist, walked over, and pushed open the window to let in the river breeze.

On the shore, merchants and travelers wove like threads — bustling and prosperous. Where was the slightest sign of an age's end?

Shandong and Northern Zhili were two different worlds; Jiangnan and Shandong were two different worlds again. Even the bearing of the beggars was different.

Jiangnan was rich!

On the post station's opera stage, a scholar was lecturing, and below the stage stood a crowd of listeners from all social strata.

The content of the scholar's lecture could not be heard, but cheers from the audience came drifting over from time to time — the frenzy was just like a celebrity holding a concert.

Zhao Han could not help asking, "Young Master, the other passengers on the boat all say this Mr. Jishan is quite famous. Why don't you go ashore and listen to him lecture?"

Fei Yinghuan sneered derisively, "I've met this Liu Zongzhou. A man of Shanyin in Zhejiang, deeply influenced by Wang Yangming's teachings, yet he turns around and criticizes Master Yangming. Not only does he criticize Master Yangming, he also criticizes Master Zhu and Lu Xiangshan. An arrogant fool, forgetting his own roots — his empty reputation is quite large, though."

"So that's how it is." Zhao Han said no more.

In truth, Zhao Han himself wanted to go ashore and take a look; after all, this was the first historical celebrity he had encountered.

Liu Zongzhou, Mr. Jishan, a member of the Donglin Faction, refused the gifts and invitation of a Manchu prince and died after fasting for twenty-three days.

Young Master Fei Yinghuan clearly had a deep misunderstanding of Liu Zongzhou.

In his youth, Liu Zongzhou had been far too arrogant and indeed went around blasting Zhu Xi, Lu Jiuyuan, and Wang Yangming. But now, after years of dismissal from office and secluded cultivation, his scholarly thought had undergone a massive transformation — he had actually become a devout follower of Wang Yangming.

With Chongzhen's ascension, Liu Zongzhou was selected as Prefect of Shuntian, and along his journey north he was invited to lecture at every stop.

Zhao Han leaned on the windowsill and gazed out for a while, then asked curiously, "Young Master, what is your view of the Donglin Faction?"

Fei Yinghuan laughed, "The Donglin Academy has been burned down — what true Donglin Faction is there left? They're all just hangers-on. But you, at your young age, have heard of the Donglin Faction too?"

Zhao Han could only fabricate, "My late father held the Donglin Faction in high esteem."

Fei Yinghuan explained, "When Wei Zhongxian wielded power, anyone who opposed Wei, regardless of native place or background, was branded a Donglin partisan. After Wei Zhongxian fell, everyone scrambled to be a Donglin partisan, or else they'd be denounced as part of the eunuch faction. One or the other — that's factional strife. When I went to the capital for the metropolitan examination early this year and lodged at an elder's home, I heard him say the court is lively every day."

Well then — the Donglin Faction was a matter of political alignment. This was an angle Zhao Han had not expected.

Fei Yinghuan went back to studying calligraphy, and Zhao Han returned to his own cabin.

The four of them, master and servants, shared the same suite.

Fei Yinghuan occupied the large inner cabin alone; Zhao Han, Zhao Zhenfang, and Wei Jianxiong shared the small room, ready to be called on at any moment to do things.

"Second Brother, look, quick, look!" Zhao Zhenfang came running over happily, holding up a toy.

Zhao Han smiled and caught his little sister in his arms. "What's this?"

Zhao Zhenfang presented it like a treasure: "This is a puppet Uncle Wei gave me. The neck and the hands and feet all move."

Zhao Han took it and played with it for a moment, feigning astonishment. "They really do move — what an ingenious little puppet!"

Zhao Zhenfang grinned even more brightly, revealing the big gap from her missing teeth. The little girl was growing more and more cheerful.

After coaxing his little sister for a while, Zhao Han said gratefully, "Thank you, Uncle Wei..."

"No need. I went ashore on an errand and picked it up on the way," Wei Jianxiong said, lying on his bedroll, leisurely crossing his legs with a stalk of grass between his teeth. "Go pack the luggage. I've found a boat — we set off for Jiujiang tomorrow."

Zhao Han hurried off to pack their things. He had done all the odd jobs along the journey, while Wei Jianxiong lounged about, practically half a young master himself.

Once the work was done, Wei Jianxiong asked again, "Did you practice the spear today?"

Zhao Han said, "Haven't had the chance yet."

Wei Jianxiong pressed him: "A thousand thrusts every day — not one less."

Zhao Han had no choice but to take out his long spear and practice lunging inside the cabin. The move never changed — dull and tedious.

When he had finally finished, Wei Jianxiong started ordering him around again: "Go call for food and drink."

Zhao Han picked up a stool and went out of the cabin. There was a bell by the door, and he needed the stool to reach it.

Ding-a-ling!

At the crisp ring of the bell, a waiter soon came to provide cabin service.

Zhao Han said, "Please send over some food."

Wei Jianxiong lay inside and called out: "One Jinling roast duck, a plate of braised dried tofu, two pounds of soy-sauce beef, a steamed mandarin fish, a pot of white rice, and a jug of Shaoxing huadiao wine."

The waiter said, "Sir, the soy-sauce beef is sold out. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until tomorrow."

Never mind any court prohibition — they sell beef, even monkey brains, and you can order shark fin too, so long as you can pay.

Wei Jianxiong said, "Then switch it to mutton."

"Right away! Please wait a moment, honored sirs!" The waiter trotted off.

About two quarters of an hour later, the waiter brought the wine and dishes, delivering them first into the main room for Fei Yinghuan to enjoy.

Fei Yinghuan had a small appetite; he ate only a little roast duck and half the mandarin fish, leaving the rest for the three servants to finish.

After a few bites Wei Jianxiong felt unsatisfied. He suddenly rose and walked into the inner room, reaching straight for the wine pot on the table.

Fei Yinghuan warned, "I'm still drinking that."

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Wei Jianxiong said with a grin, "Young master, the wine's no longer warm. Cold wine harms the stomach. The old madam told me to look after you the whole journey."

"Nonsense, how is the wine not warm anymore? Put it down at once!" Fei Yinghuan was somewhat angry.

"Still warm? Then let me have a taste." Wei Jianxiong tipped the spout to his mouth and gulped fiercely, then said in surprise, "Strange, it really hasn't gone cold. Here, back to you, young master."

Fei Yinghuan stared at the saliva on the spout, his face instantly darkening. He burst out cursing: "You heaven-cursed knave of a slave! Take the wine and get out!"

Wei Jianxiong cupped his hands and bowed: "Many thanks to the young master for bestowing the wine."

Swaggering back to the small room, Wei Jianxiong's eyes went wide as he stared at the empty plates and demanded, "Where's the Jinling roast duck?"

Zhao Zhenfang was sucking her fingers, her mouth glistening with grease, her face utterly innocent.

"It's finished. Only half a duck head left. Uncle Wei, do you want it?" Zhao Han held out the duck head he had been holding in his mouth.

Wei Jianxiong wrung his wrists and sighed: "You two really can eat. Such a big duck, gone in the blink of an eye."

Zhao Zhenfang covered her mouth and giggled, bringing out the plate of braised dried tofu. "Uncle Wei, we were teasing you. We didn't touch a single slice of the leg meat or breast meat."

"At least you've got some conscience." Wei Jianxiong pursed his lips.

Having become household slaves of the Fei clan, if nothing else, the food along the journey was extremely abundant.

Fei Yinghuan was long accustomed to extravagance and let Wei Jianxiong order whatever he pleased. He himself ate only a little; the rest all went into the bellies of Zhao Han, Zhao Zhenfang, and Wei Jianxiong.

By the time they reached Jiujiang to change boats, the brother and sister had visibly filled out, no longer the gaunt figures they had been before.

At the same time, Zhao Han finally understood why Wei Jianxiong was so broad-shouldered and barrel-chested — the man was a thoroughgoing chowhound!

Still, the relationship between Fei Yinghuan and Wei Jianxiong left Zhao Han somewhat puzzled.

They did not seem like master and servant at all, but more like sworn brothers.

(Seeking recommendation tickets, monthly tickets.)

(End of chapter)