Chapter 23: 023: Selling Offices and Peddling Titles

The boats had just docked when an autumn rain suddenly arrived.

County Magistrate Feng Xun held up an umbrella and asked, "Duke Yaohai, the season's rain is cold and chill — shall we wait for it to stop before going ashore?"

"A light breeze and fine drizzle — this is the finest weather!"

Wei Zhaocheng pushed away the umbrella his servant extended, leaned on a climbing staff, and recited as he walked: "Hark not to the sound of rain beating through the trees — why not chant and stroll at ease? Bamboo staff and straw sandals, lighter than a horse — who's afraid? A rain-cloak of mist and mist, let it last my whole life long…"

Feng Xun gritted his teeth and simply put away his oilpaper umbrella too. After a moment's thought, he put his wide-brimmed hat back on and hurried after him, saying, "Duke Yaohai is so free and open-minded — you could be the bosom friend of Master Dongpo himself!"

The scholars behind them, seeing this, all put away their umbrellas and donned their hats, braving the fine autumn rain as they headed for Xin Qiji's former residence.

"Young master, shall we leave our umbrellas too?" Wei Jianxiong asked.

Fei Yinghuan said, "Just follow along, but bring the umbrellas. The rain isn't heavy anyway."

Zhao Han was rather excited — after all, it was Xin Qiji's former residence, a chance to glimpse the spirit of a sage across the centuries.

Having heard the Governor was coming to pay homage, the local village chief had long been waiting.

Many commoners surnamed Xin lived nearby — some were descendants of Xin Qiji, others descendants of his household servants.

The village chief himself was surnamed Xin. He led the Governor all the way to the Gourd Spring, explaining, "This place is my ancestor's former residence."

"Lovely hills and clear waters — truly a fine spot for a secluded life in the countryside!" Wei Zhaocheng praised repeatedly.

Xin Qiji had two villas in Jiangxi. One, the Jiaxuan Estate, had burned to the ground. So he built the Gourd Spring Estate, where he spent his final years and passed away with his ambitions unfulfilled.

Zhao Han was squeezed among the crowd on the outer edge. Young and short, he stood on tiptoe and jumped, finally catching a glimpse of the famously celebrated Gourd Spring.

He instantly regretted it — better not to have looked.

It was just a mountain spring flowing into a gourd-shaped stone hollow, nothing remarkable or stunning in the slightest — one could even say it was utterly ordinary.

Yet two-thirds of Xin Qiji's surviving lyrics were composed here, including the line: "I see the green hills, how charming they are — I expect the green hills see me the same way."

Zhao Han's thoughts suddenly drifted to the Eight Beauties of Qinhuai — he wondered if that one named Liu Rushi had started putting up her sign yet.

Wei Zhaocheng took a gourd ladle, scooped water from the Gourd Spring, tasted it, and praised effusively: "Limpid, pure, and sweet — a rarity in this world. Gentlemen, you must all sample this spring water."

They were all local scholars — who among them had never drunk Gourd Spring water?

Ah, well — they might as well pretend they hadn't.

The scholars all stepped forward, one sip after another, heaping on extravagant praise as if they were drinking the finest nectar and jade dew.

Suddenly, an autumn wind gusted fiercely, and the raindrops fell like beans.

No more thoughts of a rain-cloak of mist lasting his whole life — Wei Zhaocheng covered his head with both hands, ordered his servants to quickly open the umbrellas, and then trotted back to the boat to shelter from the rain.

They had set out in high spirits and returned in disappointment.

Xin Qiji's grave was halfway up the mountain, so paying respects there was certainly out of the question now. Everyone boarded the boats and returned to the county seat the way they had come.

Zhao Han stood at the cabin door, gazing at the fleet of boats through the curtain of rain. Thinking of Governor Wei's face, he could not suppress a surge of disgust.

Fei Yinghuan also came over to enjoy the rain scene and said cheerfully, "Truly a timely rain — otherwise we'd have to follow them up the mountain. To brave the rain and sweep Master Jiaxuan's grave with two or three close friends — that would be one of life's elegant and exhilarating pleasures. But everyone here is a sycophant and hanger-on; they would only disturb the master's spirit in heaven!"

Zhao Han pointed at the dozen or so boats in the distance. "Are those all yamen runners and clerks?"

"No, most are temporary conscripts," Fei Yinghuan said, shaking his head.

Temporary conscripts — ordinary commoners doing unpaid labor for the government.

Just to accompany the Governor on his sightseeing excursion, the Yanshan County Magistrate had conscripted many commoners into service. Not only were they unpaid, they even had to bring their own dry rations — and those boats had been commandeered for free as well.

Moreover, the wine, food, melons, and fruit prepared for the mountain climb had also been collected from the relevant service households. Even though the trip was abandoned halfway and they never climbed the mountain to sweep the grave, none of those supplies would be returned — most likely, the clerks and runners would divide them among themselves!

In other words, Wei Zhaocheng's spur-of-the-moment excursion could well drive some service households to sell their own children.

What was even more terrifying was that Wei Zhaocheng also intended to pay homage at the Goose Lake Academy!

That place was a sacred site of the School of Principle, and it had long fallen into disrepair. Once the Governor personally visited to pay homage, official procedures had to be followed, and basic cleaning and repairs had to be done. At minimum it would cost several hundred taels, at worst over ten thousand — the finances of Yanshan County would collapse outright.

And what would Wei Zhaocheng get out of it?

Fame!

Goose Lake Academy was where Zhu Xi, Lü Zuqian, Lu Jiuling, Lu Jiuyuan, and others had gathered to lecture, laying the cornerstone for the School of Principle and the School of Mind to flourish for centuries.

With just a casual visit and some repairs, Wei Zhaocheng could make his name known across the land.

Back in the county seat, after seeing Governor Wei back to the guesthouse to rest, Magistrate Feng immediately summoned the assembled scholars for a meeting.

Facing a group of provincial graduates and county graduates, Feng Xun humbled himself like a lowly grandson and said in a tone that was practically begging: "Gentlemen, you are all the worthy talents of this county. Duke Yaohai wishes to repair the Goose Lake Academy — this is a grand undertaking to revive the literary lineage of Yanshan. I beseech you, friends, to each return home and inform your elders — could every family donate some silver? The county yamen is truly impoverished; even scraping together a hundred-odd taels would mean selling the pots and pans…"

Feng Xun was not lying — the Yanshan government truly had no money.

Hekou Town, one of the four great towns of Jiangxi, a thoroughfare linking eight provinces, a trade center. Goose Lake Town, controlling the shortest trade route from Jiangxi to Zhejiang. Yongping Town, controlling the sole trade route from Jiangxi to Fujian!

These three towns alone should have been enough to fill Yanshan County's coffers.

But they couldn't collect the taxes!

And in the vast Yanshan County, the government's registered population was barely over ten thousand, so all sorts of miscellaneous levies brought in very little as well.

Feng Xun, as County Magistrate, was utterly stifled and miserable.

The moment they heard the magistrate calling for donations, the assembled scholars collectively transformed into grandmasters of tai chi.

Goose Lake Academy was in a remote location. Unless a great contemporary Confucian master personally came to teach, it could not attract students at all. The dynasty had repaired it several times, and each time it had fallen back into disuse — pure thankless toil.

You want the gentry and powerful families to put up silver, to buy fame for the Governor, to help the magistrate curry favor with his superiors? They could go roll away!

"Reporting to Your Honor, this junior has urgent family matters and must take his leave first."

"Your Honor should know, my humble wife is at home awaiting childbirth — this student must hurry back to attend her."

"Your Honor, this junior caught a chill in the rain and now has a splitting headache — I must find a physician for a couple of herbal draughts."

"Your Honor…"

In no time at all, the scholars had all dispersed, and Magistrate Feng was so frantic he wanted to cry.

Seeing that Fei Yinghuan was also about to leave, Feng Xun cast aside all dignity, hurried forward, and grabbed him. "Brother Dazhao, could you stay for one more cup of tea?"

Fei Yinghuan smiled. "I've had too much tea today already. I'm afraid I have an urgent call of nature."

Feng Xun took Fei Yinghuan by the hand. "I'll accompany Brother Dazhao to the latrine."

Fei Yinghuan could no longer be bothered to keep up the pretense and said bluntly, "The Fei clan has no money."

Feng Xun held up a hand with five fingers spread: "Five thousand taels of silver, and Governor Wei can guarantee appointment as a County Magistrate — not some minor county, but a major county magistrate. This is a deal that can't lose. At any other time, it would cost no less than ten thousand taels."

Fei Yinghuan laughed. "He's a Governor — can he really guarantee a major county magistracy?"

Feng Xun explained, "Governor Wei's honored teacher is none other than the Donglin Faction grand elder, Master Zhanru (Chen Yuting). And Governor Wei himself enjoys His Majesty's deep favor — do you think rising eight ranks in a single day was mere luck?"

The term "grand elder" has existed since ancient times, mostly appearing in daily conversation and personal correspondence.

"Your Honor need say no more. If I wanted to be a County Magistrate, I would have taken my silver to the Ministry of Personnel to buy an office long ago," Fei Yinghuan refused outright.

Feng Xun said anxiously, "This magistracy is not the same as those others. Major county vacancies are scarce to begin with, and at only five thousand taels — the opportunity will not come again!"

"I take my leave!" Fei Yinghuan flicked his sleeves and walked away.

"Ah..."

Feng Xun sighed to himself. Setting aside all face, he wrote directly to the great clans with provincial graduates in their households, putting in black and white his brokering of offices for Wei Zhaocheng.

But these offices proved hard to sell. Unless they were too old, every juren still hoped to pass the jinshi examination.

And even if someone truly intended to buy an office, they had their own channels — why would they seek out a newly appointed Governor?

The sole selling point left was a major county chief post for five thousand taels — rather like a merchant running a discount promotion...

Wei Zhaocheng's calculations were exquisite: he sought both to earn silver selling offices and to gain renown restoring the Goose Lake Academy!

Back on the boat.

Zhao Han asked, "What troubles the young master?"

"Bang!"

Fei Yinghuan slammed the cabin wall and burst out cursing: "Selling offices and titles in broad daylight — utterly shameless! This man Wei deserves to die!"

Wei Jianxiong muttered, "My surname is Wei too."

Fei Yinghuan raged on: "This Wei Zhaocheng — he served as a remonstrance official for years with never a chance to line his pockets. Now, promoted eight ranks in a day and sent out as Governor of Jiangxi, he can't wait to peddle offices everywhere. I hear he's spent these past months touring the prefectures and counties — must have been selling offices all the way to Yanshan. That son of a bitch, for the sake of silver, has truly cast aside every shred of face!"

"Maybe he's in a hurry to meet his quota," Zhao Han said mockingly.

Fei Yinghuan asked, "What do you mean, meet his quota?"

Zhao Han smiled. "A slip of the tongue. Nothing."

Wei Zhaocheng's frantic rush to sell offices everywhere was not solely for silver.

It was also a way to build ties with local powerful clans, to take gentry sons as his disciples, and to plant his partisans and claws in offices across the land. Layer upon layer of faction-building — thus the Donglin Faction would grow strong, gradually seizing the levers of power from the capital down to the localities.

While Fei Yinghuan was being fastidious here, his own father, far off at Goose Lake, was delighted to receive Magistrate Feng's letter.

Just five thousand taels of silver to buy a major county magistracy — what a bargain!

Even on Six-One-Eight or Double Eleven, you'd never find a merchant this sincere, discounting all the way down to a shattering fracture — if you didn't place your order at once, it felt like losing a hundred million.

(Offering up another book: "The Age of Retro Literature," about being reborn to pursue literary creation — a literary master who's very good at showing off.)

(End of chapter)