Chapter 231: A Vile Little Man Discovered!

"Sir, do we really have to rally to the throne?"

Zhu Guobi, Huang Shu, Zhao Zhilong, and the others had already dispersed. Inside the Yongchun Pavilion at the Dagong Workshop, Xu Hongji, Xu Yongji, and Xu Yunjue began a closed-door secret discussion.

Duke of Wei Xu Hongji heard his son's words, let out a sigh, then shot his son a glare. "Our family has enjoyed wealth and rank in the southeast for over two hundred years, and every branch of the lineage flourishes beyond measure. Do you know how much land we hold all together? Could you bear to hand it all over?"

"But, but—"

How could Xu Yunjue bear it? Several million mu! And most of it was prime paddy land, worth at the very least tens of millions of taels!

Besides, not all of that land belonged to the main line of the Duke of Wei's household. There were also many hereditary Guard Commander families, and many scholarly households that had set aside the sword for the pen. Several thousand people depended on the rents from that land! Hand it all over, and have the Duke of Wei's household dig into its own reserves to support all those people? How deep were the Duke of Wei's reserves, anyway? How many years could they last?

"How could we possibly hand it over!" Xu Yongji said through gritted teeth. "The salt profits are gone! The several hundred shops in Yangzhou and Huai'an are gone too, and so is the silver we had out on loan to the four Shanxi-Shaanxi salt commissioners. In a single year, the salt profits, shop rents, and interest alone come to a loss of two million taels! Spread across the ten branches of the Duke of Wei's household, no branch loses less than two hundred thousand!"

For the Xu family, land was merely the "floor." With so many sons and grandsons, real extravagance had to be funded by commerce.

And the heart of the Xu family's commercial domain was Yangzhou, Huai'an, and Nanjing. Now the Xu family's properties in Yangzhou and Huai'an had all been confiscated, leaving only Nanjing with any substantial commercial interests. But no matter how profitable the Nanjing shops were, they could not compare with the salt profits!

Without the salt, without the land, how were the several thousand sons of the Xu family's ten branches to be fed? They were all people long accustomed to fine living.

"But if this rallying to the throne goes wrong, it won't just be a loss of wealth—it'll be the extermination of our entire clan!"

"It won't go wrong!" Xu Yongji laughed. "The Crown Prince has grown dizzy with success. He actually thinks we southeastern meritorious families will meekly hand over our land just because of his threats! If he hadn't put forward such terms, most of the southeastern meritorious families would never have joined us. With only our family and Zhu Guobi and Zhao Zhilong's strength, we might not have been able to defeat the Crown Prince."

Xu Hongji nodded. "He truly has grown dizzy with success. And it isn't only us meritorious families who have seized military farmlands, government lands, and hidden fields. The scholarly families of the southeast hold even more land than we do! In the Southern Metropolitan Region alone, the hidden fields amount to no less than seventy or eighty million mu, and more than half of it is held by those scholars."

"Elder Brother is absolutely right!" Xu Yongji said. "As long as we can hold out in Nanjing for a while, scholars in the southeast will surely step forward to answer our call."

Xu Yunjue only shook his head. "But the letter that came from Grand Secretary Shi's side says the Tartar regent intends to marry his daughter to the Crown Prince. It seems that great victory at Dagukou was no fabrication."

"Hmph!" Xu Yongji was not buying it. "We have the strong walls of Nanjing to rely on! We have the hearts of the southeastern people to count on, and we have Huang Degong and Zuo Liangyu as outside support. There is nothing to fear! Besides, the Tartars could march south at any time. If the south really falls into chaos, will that Tartar regent Dorgon pass up the chance? Since ancient times, he who wins the Central Plain wins the realm. If the Tartars have already taken half the Central Plain, would they not want the whole realm, content to settle for the situation of a mere Liao kingdom?"

An utterly ordinary large cart rumbled and rolled along the bustling street outside the Yifeng Gate of Nanjing's inner city, then turned into a lane right next to the Jinghai Temple.

Though this lane lay in a busy district, with the Longjiang Pass docks not far away—the very throat of Nanjing's water transport and a great port famous along the Yangtze—this little lane so close to Longjiang Pass was extraordinarily quiet. One side of the lane was the outer wall of the ancient Jinghai Temple; on the other side stood many modestly sized, self-contained residences, all property of the temple. The lane's southern end connected to Yifeng Gate Avenue, while its northern end dead-ended at the Great Flood Pond—a cul-de-sac.

Because the lane was so close to Longjiang Pass and the main camp of the Yangtze River Naval Force, and because the houses were decent, quite a few officials in charge of the navy or the Longjiang customs office rented homes in this quiet lane within the bustle.

At the lane's entrance, several soldiers in mandarin-duck battle jackets stood or squatted lazily, keeping watch for whichever official living there. When they saw the carriage enter, they immediately rose and stepped forward to block it—usually, anyone arriving in such a carriage was a merchant coming to pay a call, and if the soldiers stopped them, they could always squeeze out a few coins. But this time was an exception. When the driver saw them, he pulled a token of the Garrison Commander's office from his breast and flashed it. The soldiers were instantly startled and hastily dropped to their knees in salute.

The driver spoke with a crisp Beijing accent: "Is Censor Zuo at home?"

"Yes, yes, he is. Censor Zuo's mother has passed away. He's at home packing his things, preparing to return to his native place for mourning."

The driver then fished out a handful of standard coins, tossed them on the ground, and said, "That's for you!"

"Thank you, sir, for your generosity!"

Standard coins were no trifling small change—four or five hundred of them could be exchanged for a tael of silver! A big handful like that could buy the soldiers here several good meals, so naturally they gave their thanks and gleefully scrambled to pick up the coins.

The carriage continued on and soon stopped before a plain little courtyard gate. The driver lifted the curtain, and out stepped a tall, imposing, dignified middle-aged man—none other than the Nanjing Garrison Commander, Zhao Zhilong.

Zhao Zhilong was not in official robes but dressed as a scholar. He got down from the carriage and strode up to pound on the gate of the little courtyard. After a few knocks, the gate opened a crack, and an old man poked his head out, squinting as he studied Zhao Zhilong.

"You are…"

Zhao Zhilong produced a visiting card and presented it. "Old sir, I am a friend of Censor Zuo, here to offer condolences."

Censor Zuo was none other than the historically renowned Zuo Maodi, the River Patrol Censor—the censor who, together with the River Defense Commander, oversaw the naval forces and river defenses. Although he held office in the southeast, he had made his home in Beijing. His mother, Lady Chen, lived in Beijing, looked after by Zuo Maodi's cousin Zuo Maotai. Zuo Maotai could have protected Lady Chen and fled with her, but instead he became a turncoat, and left Lady Chen behind in Beijing as well. Later, when the Qing troops came, Zuo Maotai cheerfully surrendered and became a thrice-turncoat, but Lady Chen would not eat Qing grain and starved herself to death!

The news of Lady Chen's death by fasting was brought to Shandong by Sun Zhixie and Jin Zhijun, and Gao Hongtu wrote to inform Zuo Maodi. And so Zuo Maodi, heartbroken, remained at home as a filial son, and also submitted a memorial requesting leave to return to his native place for mourning—the memorial was submitted to the traveling court, and Zhu Cilang approved it, also ordering Zuo Maodi to make a trip to Yangzhou.

So when Zhao Zhilong came calling, the filial son Zuo, clad in mourning hemp, was packing his things, preparing to go to Yangzhou for an audience with His Majesty, and then return to his hometown to serve out his mourning.

"Commander Zhao, what is this…"

The filial son Zuo was taken aback at the sight of Zhao Zhilong's attire. Why was he not wearing his official robes?

Zhao Zhilong said, "Luoshi, let us find somewhere quiet to talk."

"Oh, oh, please, please come in." Zuo Maodi had some idea of what this was about. Zhao Zhilong must want him to use the opportunity of his northward journey to Shandong to contact Shi Kefa and Gao Hongtu.

Although rumors had lately been circulating in Nanjing that Shi Kefa and Gao Hongtu had betrayed the meritorious nobles who rallied to the throne, Zuo Maodi did not believe them.

In his view, if the cause of rallying to the throne was to succeed, it had to unite the strength of all parties—and that naturally included the strength of Shi Kefa and Gao Hongtu.

Sure enough, no sooner had they sat down in the study than Zhao Zhilong produced an envelope and presented it to Zuo Maodi with both hands.

"Who is this for?" Zuo Maodi asked.

"For His Highness the Crown Prince!"

What? For His Highness the Crown Prince?

Zuo Maodi looked at Zhao Zhilong. "You mean to…"

Zhao Zhilong no longer concealed anything. He gritted his teeth and said, "The meritorious nobles here in the auxiliary capital have all gone mad. They actually want to resist His Highness the Crown Prince's heavenly troops! This duke has received imperial favor for generations, and must expose them!"

You vile little man! Zuo Maodi accepted the envelope and nodded. "Very well. I will certainly deliver your secret memorial to His Highness!"

(End of Chapter)