Chapter 57: Society Organization

Zhao Han wore a chengzi robe and a carefree kerchief, looking like a poor xiucai or some family's young master.

Plain clothes, but with presence!

For a moment, these Iron Foot Society leaders couldn't figure out what sort of background Zhao Han had.

The man who had been shouting for dishes earlier couldn't help but rise and cup his fists, answering, "The red-oil chicken is delicious. Might you be a young master of the Fei clan?"

"I am Zhao Han," Zhao Han said with a smile, hands clasped. "Seeing how bold and forthright you all are, I knew you must be renowned stout fellows, so I came specially to take in your mettle."

Surnamed Zhao?

But this is the Fei clan's restaurant.

No matter — Zhao Han spoke so pleasingly.

Flattered to the bone, the man laughed heartily and said, "I'm Sun Xianzong, usually called Sun the Second. Young sir, please sit, sit! This is my third brother, Sun Zhenzong — just call him Sun the Third. This is Fei Hun, a cadet branch son of the Fei clan, though who knows how many branches removed; he can only do hard labor as a porter. This is Zhang Tieniu, nicknamed Little Li Kui. This is Li Dazhu…"

Once the introductions were done, Zhao Han called toward the counter, "Another jug of wine, and this table's meal — put it all on my account!"

Sun Xianzong hurriedly said, "How can that be? There are so many of us; we should be the hosts."

"Right, right, we should be treating you."

The men all demurred, each trying to guess Zhao Han's identity, and at the same time, his purpose.

"Smack!"

Zhao Han slammed the table, feigning anger. "And here I took you for stout fellows, yet you bicker over a meal's cost, fussing and fretting like a bunch of women!"

The men looked at each other, unable to figure out what Zhao Han was playing at.

The atmosphere turned awkward.

Sun Xianzong smoothed things over, saying, "We've made a fool of ourselves before you, young sir. We won't argue over today's meal, and we'll treat you to drinks another day."

"That's more like it," Zhao Han said, picking up the wine jug from the table. He shook it, found there was still wine, and poured himself a cup. "Come, come — whoever's a stout fellow, let's drain a cup first."

"Done, bottoms up!" The men raised their cups and drank deep.

After a cup of wine, the atmosphere grew much warmer.

Sun Xianzong took the initiative to fill Zhao Han's cup and probed, "Young sir, you seem to be a scholar?"

Zhao Han waved his hand. "Only passed the child student exam — hardly counts as a scholar."

"Child student is just one step from xiucai; how can that not count as a scholar?" Zhang Tieniu quickly raised his cup. "I, Tieniu, am a crude fellow. Today I've struck it lucky, sharing a table with a young scholar. Here, let me toast you!"

"Gladly." Zhao Han refused no one.

Sun Xianzong continued probing. "The manager of Dingsheng Tower has changed. Are you a relative of the manager, young sir?"

Zhao Han smiled. "I am the second manager of Dingsheng Tower."

What the hell?

This identity caught everyone completely off guard.

Li Dazhu hesitated. "Young sir, you look… you don't show your age."

"I'll be fifteen next year," Zhao Han said with a laugh. "Come, come — eat meat, drink wine!"

Only fourteen?

A child student, fourteen years old, second manager of the Fei clan's restaurant — what was all this?

The more they couldn't figure him out, the more deferential they became toward Zhao Han.

Sun Xianzong wanted to probe further, but Zhao Han revealed no more, instead turning the conversation to draw information out of them.

Zhao Han said, "Back when I was studying the classics at Pearl-Inlaid Academy, I already admired the Iron Foot Society's great name. Does your society require a fee to join? How about I join too?"

"Young sir jests," Sun Xianzong hastily refused. "The Iron Foot Society is all porters and laborers, born to bitter toil. Young sir is a child student who will sit for the Zhuangyuan exam one day — a star of learning descended from heaven. How could you mix with the likes of us?"

Zhao Han clinked cups with everyone again and slapped the table. "Who decreed that laborers should be lowly? Without you porters, with all the goods passing through Hekou Town, would the gentry carry them onto the boats themselves?"

"The gentry couldn't manage it — they'd probably fall into the river, goods and all." Zhang Tieniu roared with laughter, as if picturing a rich man's sorry state while hauling cargo.

"Exactly," Zhao Han said, smiling. "The prosperity of this river port is all carried out on the backs of porters with hemp sacks. The way I see it, you porters are the true gentry of Hekou Town!"

"We dare not accept such praise."

The men demurred repeatedly, but inwardly they were delighted, and their impression of Zhao Han grew more and more favorable.

Sun Xianzong finally couldn't hold back and asked outright, "Young sir, you've treated us to food and wine — is there some matter you wish to bid us on?"

"Come, Brother Sun the Second, let's have another."

Zhao Han clinked cups with Sun Xianzong, took only a sip, and said, "I'm a man who loves making friends. In making friends, I don't look at wealth or poverty, only at whether a man is loyal and forthright. A stout, loyal fellow — after one cup of wine, he's my friend. So tell me, are you willing to be my friends?"

"Willing, of course we're willing." The men answered happily.

Zhao Han went on, "So many scholars, mouths full of benevolence and morality, but in their hearts, lechery and thievery — I utterly despise them. You stout fellows are different: you say what you mean and do what you say, every word a nail driven home. Isn't that the truth?"

"Well said!"

Fei Hun slapped the table in hearty approval; this Fei cadet-branch son had probably been burned by scholars before.

Zhao Han kept spinning talk, and by the time the wine was finished, he had gleaned the following:

First, the Iron Foot Society in Hekou Town had roughly over two thousand members.

Second, Iron Foot Society members had to pay monthly dues. If bullied, they could get help from the society, which could also help them evade government corvée labor.

Third, the Iron Foot Society's leaders, high and low, were already in a semi-professional state.

In a word: an early-stage Triad organization!

From the mid-Ming onward, societies of every kind had sprouted everywhere.

The Donglin Faction began as a literati society and only later evolved into a political faction.

Commercial guilds also arose during the Zhengde and Jiajing reigns, and alongside them came escort bureaus across the land.

Among the common people at the bottom, "mutual aid societies" emerged.

Depending on region and form, mutual aid societies took many types, such as: pooled societies, gathering societies, work societies, invitation societies, credit societies, charity societies, righteous societies, grain societies, sacrificial societies, and so on.

At their core, they were nothing more than poor common folk banding together for warmth and survival.

A pity, then, that associations of this sort can never escape the rut of corruption and decay.

This Iron Foot Society before us has already started collecting protection money from small peddlers. They even spoke of it with pride, believing they had kept countless peddlers safe, never minding whether the others were willing to pay.

Zhao Han rose unsteadily, clasped his fists, and said, "Elder brothers, your junior brother cannot hold his liquor. Let us… let us drink again another day!"

"Well… well said!" Sun Xianzong braced himself against the table and stood, throwing an arm around Zhao Han's shoulder.

Zhang Tieniu was drunk and dizzy too. He grabbed Zhao Han's hand and said, "Little Xiucai, just hearing you talk puts a man at ease. Tomorrow we'll have another round. If you ever need anything hauled, just send word, and I, Tieniu, swear I'll put my back into it for you!"

"Why say so much? We're all brothers here." Zhao Han clapped him on the shoulder.

Sun Zhenzong laughed. "Right, right, we're all brothers here."

After another round of idle chatter, they finally saw the men off.

Zhao Han returned to the counter and in an instant was stone-cold sober. He beckoned a waiter over and asked, "Here in Hekou Town, besides the Iron Foot Society, which society is the strongest?"

"The Boat Society, of course," the waiter replied. "The Boat Society is all boatmen. Their chief is called the Rudder Master, or the Helmsman. The Iron Foot Society rules the land, the Boat Society rules the river. They've always kept to their own turf — well water never mixing with river water."

Zhao Han asked again, "Is there a peasant association?"

The waiter laughed. "Peasant associations come and go. They never last long and never grow very big — at most they band together for mutual aid. Over ten years ago there was one called the Cang Society. It rallied over a thousand tenant farmers to join, even taught the children to sing things like 'Tear our robes for banners, melt our hoes for blades,' and shout slogans like 'Sweep away master and slave, noble and base; level the rich and poor of the world.' Their society head called himself the 'King Who Levels All.' They'd barely started making noise — never even roused the officials — before the village elders brought their household slaves and wiped them out."

Damn — "King Who Levels All," now that's a proper rebel name. Far more impressive than the titles those bandits over in Shaanxi go by.

Seems this "King Who Levels All" had some schooling; even his rebellion slogans have a literary ring to them.

Don't let Jiangxi's southern location fool you — if you count rebellions alone, it ranks as the foremost province in all the Great Ming.

The southern Jiangxi region especially: rebelling is as routine as a household meal. When an uprising fails, they simply take to the hills and turn bandit. Because of this, Jiangxi not only has a Jiangxi Regional Commander, but also a separate Southern Jiangxi Regional Commander, established specifically to suppress uprisings and quell banditry. That Southern Jiangxi Regional Commander post persisted all the way to the late Qing. Uprisings flare up here so often, running straight through both Ming and Qing — even a change of dynasty couldn't stop them from rebelling.

Two years ago, Fujian peasants rose in revolt, then roved and fought their way into Jiangxi, joining forces with the Ruijin rebels. Even now, they still haven't been wiped out.

Of the "Six Talents of Redwater," men of considerable literary fame, four were killed by the Ruijin rebels on their way home from the provincial examinations.

The County Magistrate of Ruijin no longer dares to set foot outside the city walls.

The rebellion situation in southern Jiangxi is in splendid shape — so splendid that Zhao Han couldn't help feeling tempted to join in.

Zhao Han went on discussing rebellions with the waiter… ahem, went on discussing societies and associations, when Fei Ruhe and his servant Fei Chun suddenly arrived.

"I've already arranged things with the printing house," Fei Ruhe said, lifting the teapot and gulping straight from it. "As long as we put up the money, they're willing to print. But whatever gets printed, we'll have to sell ourselves. The printing house thinks we're too obscure."

Self-funded publishing, bearing all profit and loss ourselves.

Fei Chun couldn't help speaking up: "Brother, do you really think that ten-day periodical of yours will sell? If you ask me, we'd be better off just printing a novel. The Legend of the Eagle-Shooting Hero would definitely sell well."

Zhao Han smiled and explained, "We can't just sell the novel outright. The moment it becomes a hit, there'll be countless pirated copies, and the pirates will rake in all the money. We'll let the stream flow slow and steady — wouldn't serializing it three times a month be far better? If they want to read what comes next, they'll have to obediently buy my Goose Lake Ten-Day Periodical!"

What was the Goose Lake Ten-Day Periodical?

Zhao Han's platform for propaganda and public opinion — and a way to make some silver on the side by serializing a novel.

Zhao Han pointed at the stage behind him. "Fei Chun, you'll be our storyteller here in the restaurant. Every time an issue comes out, you'll tell only a third of it, leaving them itching for more. Whoever wants to know the other two-thirds will have to pay up and buy it. Even if the periodical is utter trash, there'll still be people who want it."

Fei Ruhe looked baffled. "Why go to all that trouble? If you're afraid of piracy, just sell the novel volume by volume."

"You wouldn't understand even if I explained," Zhao Han said bluntly. "Do you trust my ability or not?"

Fei Ruhe nodded. "Of course I do."

Zhao Han hooked an arm around Fei Ruhe's shoulder. "If you trust me, then do as I say."

(End of Chapter)