Chapter 44: Section 44: Beggar Sect

A row of solar panels leaned against the courtyard wall, working together with components including the storage battery to supply power. The transmigrators' various gadgets — computers, electric lights, wires, and the vehicle-mounted radio — could all now operate normally.

Several makeshift rooms assembled from refrigerated truck containers served as a temporary storehouse.

Outside the window, bright sun blazed high, while inside, people sat gathered around a square table, listening with rapt attention to someone speaking.

The shaven-headed Feng Jun, dressed in a monk's robe, was now talking confidently, his somewhat soft baritone echoing through the room: "In the current environment, openly rounding up refugees is simply unrealistic. Even the gentry lords do nothing more than hand out a few bowls of porridge when they're idle, let alone us people who have absolutely no social standing in the Great Ming. The moment we bring some refugees back, the very next moment even the gatekeeper uncle will know there's a gang of rebels in Tangzhuang — the Ming people are very familiar with this sort of trick!"

"Clack, clack." Xia Xianze rapped his fingers on the tabletop and cut in impatiently: "Solutions! Everyone knows all that. Your Human Resources Department investigated for a month — where's the plan?"

"The plan is ready. There are two: one short-term, one long-term."

Feng Jun tapped a few keys on his laptop, then began to explain: "First, the short-term plan — take the low road. This process is short and yields quick results, but it will require killing some people, and possibly setting a few fires depending on the situation."

"Huh?" Hearing this, many people grew more interested: "Tell us, what exactly is this 'low road' approach?"

Feng Jun gave a light laugh, and two words popped from his mouth: "Beggar Sect."

Next, he began to explain in detail: "The Ming Dynasty's Beggar Sect has a very broad business scope: urban garbage cleanup, corpse cremation, street-corner posturing, wholesale criminal scapegoating... in short, it's a comprehensive criminal syndicate combining civil administration, underworld, and municipal management functions. And our next step in the plan hinges on the Beggar Sect."

At this point, the listeners had caught on: "You mean control the Beggar Sect to collect refugees?"

"Exactly!" Feng Jun nodded. "First, the Beggar Sect itself is a massive alliance of the unemployed — there are no fewer than three thousand genuine beggars in Hangzhou City. Apart from a tiny management layer at the top of the pyramid, the rest of the membership consists of urban and rural unemployed, landless farmers, and seasonal refugees. It's essentially a reservoir, storing the floodwaters for the authorities — the Beggar Sect inherently has the function of absorbing refugees."

"Secondly," Feng Jun continued, "from the moment a refugee enters the Hangzhou area, all the way until they starve to death by the roadside and are finally carted off for cremation, this entire series of procedures cannot be separated from the Beggar Sect. And this set of open, aboveboard procedures is exactly what we need most right now."

At this, Feng Jun gave a hehe smile: "Amidst that vast, endless sea of refugees, beggars, and roadside corpses — if a few go missing in between, who would know? And even if they knew, what could they do?"

Seeing the thoughtful expressions on everyone present, Feng Jun continued: "We've verified this short-term plan. If we're careful, it can guarantee at least a year of underground refugee transport. We've also done very solid preliminary research, including initial probing of the Huizhou merchant Liu Yaozu's willingness to cooperate. Of course, the results weren't great, but that's not important. Once this plan is approved and the Company's resources are mobilized, we'll always find a way with Liu Yaozu."

Feng Jun paused, then swept his gaze over everyone with a smile: "So, shouldn't we now discuss the question of how to fight Hong Qigong to the death?"

"Hold off on that discussion!" Xia Xianze raised an index finger and wagged it. "Everyone has heard the short-term plan — we'll discuss it shortly. First, tell us what this long-term plan is about."

"The long-term plan is very complex, with many steps." Feng Jun scratched his bald head awkwardly. "The proposal document alone is six thousand characters. How about this — everyone read it yourselves first, and we'll talk after you've finished."

With that, Feng Jun pulled out a USB drive and tossed it onto the table.

Watching everyone take turns using the USB drive to download the file, Feng Jun thought for a moment and added: "Let me briefly summarize: this is an extremely complex plan with many steps, and it also requires an element of luck to complete. The advantage is that it doesn't consume many 'import goods.' The ultimate goal is very simple — to create a genuine gentry member, played by a transmigrator, who can compose poetry and paint!"

"I don't need to elaborate on how much convenience a genuine gentry member can bring to our cause, do I? Snagging a few refugees would be nothing." Feng Jun said this with smug satisfaction. "We've even come up with a name for this plan — we're calling it 'Operation Li Kui!'"

The crowd: "..."

Two days later, in the afternoon, at Liufu Ward, the Liu Residence — Great Lord Liu Yaozu was cooling off in his own garden pavilion.

Liufu Ward lay within Qingbo Gate, separated from West Lake by a single wall, bordered to the north by the "Three Yamen Front" where prefectural and county government offices clustered, and resting against Yuhuang Mountain to the south. It was precisely a gathering place for official and gentry households, the very essence of the "Upper City District." And the Liu Family's grand residence, saturated with a strong Huizhou style, sat in the northwest corner of Liufu Ward.

Liu Yaozu was forty-three this year, grown stout in middle age, his build somewhat plump. He wore a long three-strand beard, with level brows and upright eyes, possessing a thoroughly dignified bearing.

In the blazing summer heat, Great Lord Liu, dressed in a plain Husi thin robe and half-reclining on a cooling chair, was now staring blankly at a few koi in the flower pond. His usually amiable face bore not a trace of expression. The celadon teacup in his hand had been held for ages without a single sip. The maid fanning behind him knew the master's mood was foul; at this moment, she dared not even breathe loudly, her movements growing ever more gentle.

Liu Yaozu's mood at this moment could truly only be described as rotten — the eldest young master's illness could no longer be dragged out.

The Liu Family had been in trade since the grandfather's generation, and by Liu Yaozu's generation, it was a four-generation enterprise. His father and grandfather had scattered silver to pursue a Ming Dynasty version of "strategic investment," and by Liu Yaozu's time, several of those bets had finally paid off handsomely. Now, the Liu Family had a Director in the Ministry of Revenue and a Censor in the Censorate. The Liu Family appeared unremarkable in reputation, yet its foundation was extremely solid. In this Hangzhou City, apart from those high gates and chief eunuchs with generations of official honors, they had already secured a firmly second-tier, excellent position.

Yet storms come without warning. Two months ago, the Liu Family's eldest young master, Liu Siwei, had suddenly fallen ill. At first it was just a slight cold; a week later, diarrhea began; every few days, a high fever would strike. The Liu Family invited famous doctors everywhere and held multiple consultations. The conclusion: externally contracted damp pestilence, righteous qi depleted and weak. In a word: typhoid fever. In one sentence: we shall do our utmost, do our utmost...

From that moment on, the Liu Family had exploded into chaos.

Liu Yaozu had two sons. The legitimate son, Liu Siwei, had passed the imperial exam and earned the xiucai scholarly rank at a young age, and might even contend for the juren rank in the future — a perfect second-generation successor candidate.

As for the concubine-born son Liu Sixian, Great Lord Liu had already given up on treatment — this son was the perfect rich second-generation, having made indelible contributions to Hangzhou City's entertainment industry at a tender age.

The eldest young master's condition fluctuated, recurring again and again. Dragging on for two months, it grew ever more severe. These past few days, he was more often unconscious than awake, unable to take water or rice. Just this morning, the old physician on duty had begun hinting to Great Lord Liu: storms may come without warning...