Chapter 34: Living in the Capital Is Hard

After some polite exchanges, Li Mu arranged for someone to show Lan Linjie to their quarters.

Fortunately, they had bought a three-court yard in Xicheng; otherwise, it would have been hard to settle in.

Though the Hou Fu was fine, it was still inconvenient. To serve long-term in the capital, one could not rely on others’ hospitality forever.

Though Li Mu had considered moving out, he did not act immediately. The Marquis and his wife had treated him well; such a matter required a proper opportunity.

Leaving aside his family’s assets in the hometown, he already had modest wealth in the capital.

He owned a three-court yard in Xicheng, where every inch of land was priceless.

He also owned two three-story shop buildings, though their location was slightly off, near the southeast gate intersection.

In Baoding Prefecture, he had three estates, totaling about twelve hundred mu.

But his liquid cash was scarce; the three thousand taels of silver he brought into the capital now remained only fifteen hundred.

All earnings from acting as intermediary had been poured into these properties.

The regular share from the yamen amounted to roughly four thousand taels, but that money would not be disbursed anytime soon.

Mainly because Li Mu was cautious—he took only what the system allowed.

These properties, if put on the market, would be fiercely contested. Had they not been sold at a fire-sale price, he could never have afforded them.

One must admit: the fastest way to accumulate wealth in a feudal dynasty was to become an official.

In just two months since entering officialdom, he had amassed so much property—no wonder everyone wanted to be an official.

Excluding salary and yamen income, these properties alone could yield about three thousand taels annually in normal years.

Of course, such high returns were largely due to his status.

Beyond the capital, the Five City Military Command held considerable influence over surrounding prefectures and counties.

Pursuing fugitive criminals and requisitioning local yamen runners for assistance was routine.

His authority as a Battalion Commander might not be respected in Baoding Prefecture, but it carried sufficient deterrent power over low-ranking clerks.

Aside from official taxes, all local surcharges and levies were exempted from him.

Even when conscripting tenant farmers for labor, local clerks had to time it carefully to avoid disrupting the cultivation of his fields.

His urban shops received even greater preferential treatment.

Within his own jurisdiction, not only were all fees waived, but when trouble arose, soldiers from the Five City Military Command would arrive first to handle it.

Such hassle-free shops naturally commanded premium rents.

His income was substantial, but so were his expenses.

He hired one new private secretary, with a monthly salary of twenty taels agreed upon.

He provided food, lodging, writing materials, and also assigned one maid, one old woman servant, and one male servant; a carriage was required for travel, making his actual monthly expenditure no less than thirty-five taels.

This was the proper treatment befitting a juren.

In the Great Yu Dynasty, there were no poor juren—only scholarly pedants.

Land donated by commoners alone was enough to let a juren live comfortably.

The thirty retainers he brought from Hanzhong cost no less than one hundred fifty taels monthly: sixty taels as salary, the rest for food, clothing, and daily needs.

This expense could not be cut.

While serving in the capital, the value of retainers was not obvious; once posted to the provinces, they became the foundation of his survival.

He appeared to be keeping retainers, but in truth, he trained them as personal guards. If needed, they could instantly become junior officers.

As a fifth-rank official, his household could not consist solely of rough men; he needed servants, maids, old women, cooks, stable hands, and gardeners.

A rough estimate showed that once fully staffed, his household would number no fewer than fifteen.

Add expenses for house repairs, his personal living costs, tea and snacks for guests, and the rear household’s monthly expenditure would be no less than one hundred taels.

Fortunately, the cost of warhorses was covered by the yamen’s public account; otherwise, expenses would have been higher.

Including official social obligations, a ambitious military officer like him spent no less than four thousand taels annually.

Civil officials spent slightly less daily, but to live comfortably, their expenses still did not fall below two thousand taels.

If posted to a low-revenue office, one relied solely on salary and cut costs by not hiring a private secretary and reducing household servants.

One never realized the cost until one calculated it—and then one was stunned.

Now Li Mu truly understood what it meant: “Living in the capital is hard.”

If a fifth-rank official faced such costs, how much greater must be the expenditures of noble households above him?

If one’s family held a key post, all was well; once removed from the center of power, income plummeted.

Those with deep reserves could sustain themselves through their properties.

But as influence faded and hidden privileges vanished, income from family assets gradually declined.

If one failed to adjust promptly and cut unnecessary expenses, one would soon fall into the trap of spending tomorrow’s bread today.

…

“Battalion Commander, the Directorate of Ceremonial has announced the sale of confiscated property from disgraced officials.”

There are two million eight hundred thousand mu of land alone—the capital is in an uproar.”

“If you’re interested, you should go take a look—they say some of the land is even from Hanzhong!”

Watching the excited Secretary Yan, Li Mu had no idea why he was so worked up.

No matter how much property the eunuchs sold, a mere clerk had no business dreaming of it.

After a brief pause, Li Mu realized something was off. The eunuchs were not merely selling property—they were digging up the roots of disgraced officials’ potential comebacks.

The confiscated estates of disgraced officials, aside from a small portion in the capital, were scattered across the empire.

With the eunuchs’ reputation, venturing into the heartland of the literati to seize land would be suicide.

Keeping the land in the imperial treasury risked its return if any disgraced official were ever rehabilitated.

So they seized the opportunity of the court’s financial shortage and sold the properties outright. Those who could afford them were either nobles or local gentry.

Before profit, even the closest ties were set aside. As long as the court offered discounts, buyers would rush to take them.

Once the deals were done, the literati faction fractured.

Those literati who once sympathized with the disgraced officials would shift their stance after gaining tangible benefits.

To protect their own interests, they would oppose any rehabilitation.

This was merely the eunuchs’ first layer of strategy—there were deeper traps to come.

Cheap deals were never truly good.

The land under disgraced officials’ names, besides their own holdings, mostly consisted of land informally registered under their names by neighbors.

After buying this land at low prices, how would they treat the original owners?

If they honored the original informal agreements, the neighbors would have no complaint—but the buyers would suffer heavy losses.

Land was the core asset in a feudal dynasty; even heavily discounted, its sale price would never be absurdly low.

Compared to land given away as a favor, the cost difference was incomparable.

If they refused to honor prior arrangements, the original landowners, whose interests were harmed, would surely resist.

(End of chapter)