Chapter 302: Registration Plaques and the City Gate

The three members of the Qian family finished their ancestral rites, burned some paper money and spirit ingots, and then set out together.

On New Year's Day, the official road was far more bustling than usual.

The common folk of the capital region were either heading into the city to visit relatives and friends, or taking advantage of the holiday to join the excitement at the temple fairs; quite a few peddlers, too, were hurrying inward with their shoulder poles, hoping to earn a profit from the season.

As the daylight gradually rose, streams of people trickled from the various country lanes and merged into the main flow.

The three walked for about a quarter of an hour before the towering gate tower of Guangning Gate came into view.

By now, the gate was a sea of people — a dark, dense mass of bobbing heads, their exhaled white breath gathering together like a thin layer of cloud. The queue stretched extremely long, yet it was not chaotic, resembling several long serpents slowly inching toward the gate tunnel.

Qian Changle reached into his coat, pulled out a palm-sized wooden plaque, held it in his hand, and turned his head to ask:

"Elder Brother, Sister-in-law — have you brought your registration plaques?"

Madam Wang, hearing this, could not help but laugh. Pointing at her husband beside her, she said:

"Your elder brother hasn't entered the city in a long while. Last night he checked and rechecked for ages before he could set his mind at rest and fall asleep."

"Don't you worry, Ah Le. Not just this registration plaque — he's even memorized all the new city regulations by heart, several times over."

Qian Changping's face, already somewhat reddened from the cold, instantly flushed a few shades deeper.

Somewhat sheepishly, he rubbed his hands together and protested:

"I memorized them after just one recitation — what do you mean, several times over?"

"It's only a few trifling rules; how could they possibly take that much time?"

Qian Changle smiled faintly, did not expose him, and turned back around to continue queuing.

This "institution of registration plaques" was a new policy that the Shuntian Prefectural Office had begun to enforce rigorously after the twelfth month began.

It was a household registration measure rolled out together with the population census and the baojia mutual-responsibility system. Anyone seeking to pass through the Nine Gates — be they imperial kinsmen, ennobled grandees, peddlers and porters, or cart-pushers and hawkers — was required to carry a registration plaque on their person, without a single exception.

The material of the plaque, however, was not rigidly prescribed.

Those uniformly issued by the government were the most ordinary bamboo or wood plaques, carved with each person's place of origin, full name, and physical description.

If a household was well-off, or wished to display its status, it could also make its own plaque, so long as the content matched.

Gold, silver, copper, iron, even fine jade or ivory — any material was permissible, as long as the dimensions and format conformed to official regulations; one could spend lavishly or frugally, as one pleased. The queue, though long, advanced at a surprisingly rapid pace.

Before they knew it, it was nearly the turn of the three Qians.

Just at that moment, a sudden commotion arose up ahead.

"I am a man from Shandong, come to the capital to seek refuge with relatives! I've traveled a long and weary road — how was I supposed to know anything about some registration plaque or other!"

A middle-aged fellow carrying a large bundle on his back was gesticulating there, his face full of anxious urgency.

The soldier guarding the gate had clearly seen this sort of scene countless times; his face was all impatience. He thumped the butt of his long spear against the ground:

"What are you yelling about! No plaque, no entry!"

"See over there?"

The soldier pointed a finger toward a shed on the western side at the foot of the wall, where another, shorter queue had formed. Several men in blue clerk's robes were busy working behind desks. "Go over there! That's the Shuntian Prefectural Office's household and civil registry section."

"Go register there, have your travel permit checked, or find a fellow townsman in the city to act as your guarantor and get a 'temporary residence permit' issued. Then come back within three months to apply for a proper registration plaque."

"Go on, quickly now! Don't block the line here — there are still several hundred people waiting behind you!"

Hearing that he could still enter the city after all, the fellow was instantly effusively grateful. Hefting his bundle, he scurried off at a run.

Once this matter was dealt with, the queue began moving again.

Very soon, it was Qian Changle's turn. He extended his plaque forward, but the gate officer merely swept it with a lazy glance, not even looking him in the eye, and waved him through. Qian Changle paused, his brow furrowing slightly.

He first scanned the gate area, but found that none of his colleagues on rotation duty were present today.

The work content of these new-policy clerks during their current probationary period was rather peculiar, and could essentially be divided into three parts:

First, their formal posts in the capital's tax office. This part was nothing special — just reviewing account books and inspecting tax matters. New clerks and old clerks were mixed together, and depending on individual ability, one might serve as the lead or as the assistant.

Second, the "night school" held every day after the end of the work shift at the hour of the Rooster. It lasted half a shichen, two class periods, and consisted of deeper study of new-policy affairs, case precedents for judgments, and similar coursework.

And the final item was rotation duty at the city gates.

The capital was said to have Nine Gates, but in truth it had thirteen.

For three days each month, the new-policy clerks had to serve rotation duty at the gates, performing supervision and inspection work.

This was a method that the Emperor and Jiang Sirui, the head of the civil governance group, had discussed and devised.

The new clerks were few in number and had to be deployed in concentrated fashion; they could not be scattered to various places, or else they would easily be eroded clean by the black crows.

Yet in order to build momentum for the next new-clerk selection examination, it was also necessary to expand the new clerks' influence — which in turn required deploying them in a dispersed manner. After weighing these considerations together, this peculiar combination of rotation duty and formal-post training had been settled upon.

This framework, however, was not set in stone. Jiang Sirui, the newly appointed head of the civil governance group, was still observing the effects of this arrangement and stood ready to adjust it at any moment.

Qian Changle stepped through the gate, but his mind was still turning over the problem he had just witnessed.

According to the regulations promulgated by Shuntian Prefecture, the inspection of registration plaques required verifying the bearer's facial features and build, and even spot-checking their native-place accent; only after confirming everything was correct could they be allowed through.

This gate officer was so perfunctory — he was not even looking at all. It was sheer muddling through!

No wonder the queue had been moving so quickly today; so this was the root cause.

But… did this count as a maladministration?

If the checks were strict, then given the number of people entering the city today, it would probably take a very long time to inspect them all before they could be admitted. But if the checks were not strict, what if spies seized this chance to slip into the city and stir up trouble?

Qian Changle moved along with the flow of people, pondering the whole way.

How should this matter be handled?

Assign more personnel? Where would the personnel come from? Which departments had surplus manpower that could be redeployed on New Year's Day?

Or should they conscript from the civilian lijia system to do it? And how would such an operation be organized?

Qian Changle mulled over proposals as he walked. He had already abandoned his initial thought of reporting the matter, and instead planned to bring this case up for discussion at night school. Half of the lessons taught at night school consisted of instruction and memorization; the other half were precisely these kinds of practical drill problems.

In these problems, the petty clerks were no longer petty clerks, but could take on the role of low-ranking officials to game out the methods of formulating, implementing, and supervising various miniature policies.

Although Qian Changle had no particular gift for the path of the Four Books and Five Classics, in these practical policy exercises, for some reason, he time and again shone brilliantly.

Even the dazzling Wu Yanzuo had to yield to him in this subject.

And as his studies advanced and his grasp of worldly affairs gradually deepened, Qian Changle's growth seemed nowhere near its limit.

"Huh!" A startled exclamation from his elder brother Qian Changping broke Qian Changle's train of thought.

He turned his head and saw his brother, who had not entered the city in a long time, his face full of astonishment.

"How has the southern city changed so much?! Wasn't it said that only the roads inside the inner city were repaired?"

Qian Changle lifted his gaze to the street before him, and couldn't help but smile faintly.

"Elder Brother, welcome to... the capital."

Yet in Qian Changle's heart, the words he silently recited at the same moment

were the name that had gradually spread among the new officials of late.

The New Imperial City.