Chapter 304: Quelling the Unrest

While the gang of thugs hired by Huang Zhi and his ilk began setting fires all over the city, an even more infuriating rumor also started spreading through the streets.

"Old Wan, have you heard? The court is going to set up a customs post at the South Gate. From now on, not only will you have to pay tolls on the canal, but anyone carrying goods in or out of the city will be taxed one-thirtieth! And I've also heard that every mu of land planted with mulberry or hemp will be levied three fen of silver!"

At the doorway of a residence in the city, a slick-haired young man was loudly spreading the news he had just heard to a crowd.

"Is that really true? Master Zhao, where did you hear this? I don't think it sounds like the truth!"

"That's because you, Old Wan, are short on experience! A cousin of mine travels regularly between the capital and Jiangnan. He says the capital has a customs post right at Chongwen Gate! And it's been operating for many years! If even the capital dares to set up checkpoints, why shouldn't Suzhou Prefecture do the same?"

"Ah?! If this comes to pass, what are we small merchants supposed to do? Every trip in and out will cost us silver, and our profit margins are already razor-thin. How are we supposed to support our families like this?!"

"There are traitorous villains in the court! Villains just like that Qin Hui who murdered Yue Wumu! We common folk work hard to earn a living, and now they want to tax us as merchants—something unheard of in many dynasties! No! We must go to the Prefect's yamen and petition! We will never allow this to happen!"

"Let's all go together! Let's ask the Prefect to memorialize the court—this tax must not fall on us common people!"

Before long, Old Wan's group had gathered around a hundred or so people. Noisily they threaded through streets and alleys toward the Prefect's yamen at the city center. The same scene was playing out simultaneously in many parts of the city.

Just as Old Wan and his hundred-plus followers were advancing along a narrow lane, on a small bridge over the canal a hundred-odd paces ahead of them, a group of officers in blue armored surcoats stood coldly watching this clamorous mob of citizens.

"People ahead, listen! The Embroidered Uniform Guard is here! Halt immediately! Return to your homes and do not come out! Stay inside until the authorities summon you! Otherwise, you will be executed as rebels!"

One officer raised a trumpet rolled from sheet iron and shouted at the top of his lungs. This was something Zhu Youjian had recalled from his previous life and ordered made for distribution to the law-enforcement offices. After testing, it proved quite effective—several times louder than an ordinary man's shout, and carrying much farther.

Hearing the shout, the hundred-plus people finally noticed the Embroidered Uniform Guard officers ahead and to the side. The few at the front stopped in their tracks at once, but those behind, walking on their own, couldn't halt in time and slammed into the backs of the people in front. After a brief chaos mixed with shouts and curses, the small procession ground to a halt.

The officer holding the iron trumpet repeated what he had just shouted. Most of the hundred-plus people now wore expressions of shock and fear.

In the more than two hundred years of the dynasty, the tales surrounding the Embroidered Uniform Guard were known to all the world. Especially among the common folk throughout the Ming realm, the name of the Embroidered Uniform Guard was tightly linked with ferocious demons and killers who slaughtered without blinking. At the name announced by this band of warriors ahead, the crowd that had been seething with passion fell utterly silent. Some of the more timid ones had already begun edging backward, preparing to return home.

"The Embroidered Uniform Guard has to follow reason too, don't they?! We are all law-abiding commoners—surely they can't just kill us for no reason! If we retreat home now, that tax will surely follow! For the sake of our families—our elders, our wives, our children—none of us is afraid! At worst, we'll fight them to the death!"

Master Zhao in the crowd continued his impassioned incitement.

He had originally come from a wealthy family and was himself a government student. He had a beautiful wife and lovely maidservants at home, and lived a carefree life.

But a few years ago, his parents had suddenly fallen gravely ill and died. With no one to restrain him, Master Zhao quickly fell into the vices of eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling. Within just a few years, he had squandered the family fortune. His wife divorced him and returned to her natal home, and his favorite maidservant had secretly packed up the last of the family's gold and silver and eloped with someone. Left with no choice, Master Zhao now made his living by setting up a stall writing letters and legal petitions for people—a life of great hardship and poverty.

A few days earlier, someone had approached him and produced twenty taels of silver and a wooden plaque. They said they only needed him to do one thing: stir up his neighbors and acquaintances to resist the authorities. If he could bring people to the Prefectural yamen square and deliver the wooden plaque to a thatched shed in the southeast corner, there would be another thirty taels of silver as a reward.

Twenty taels of silver was a small fortune for Master Zhao in his current state—equivalent to two years of income from writing letters and petitions. Faced with such a heavy temptation, Master Zhao agreed without the slightest hesitation. That was how the scene of spreading rumors to Old Wan and the others had come about.

Faithful to the principle of taking money and doing the job, and also for the sake of that thirty-tael reward, Master Zhao continued to incite the crowd with all his might.

The citizens who had been hesitating were once again fired up by Master Zhao's rhetoric. The few leaders at the front stepped forward and began to advance, and the stalled crowd started moving again.

Seeing this, a Platoon Leader of the Embroidered Uniform Guard on the bridge raised his hand and waved. More than twenty officers, gripping thick wooden staves wrapped in cotton cloth, strode off the bridge toward the citizens. Several officers holding crossbows stood on the bridge, scanning for targets.

Before the citizens could react, the twenty-plus officers charged into their midst. Two tall, burly officers raised their clubs and brought them down indiscriminately on the heads of the front ranks. Those in front had nowhere to dodge; in desperation, they could only twist aside to protect their vitals or raise their arms to block. A series of thuds and cracks rang out along both banks of the canal, accompanied by screams and wails. The twenty-plus officers, clubs in hand, waded into the crowd like tigers among sheep. After a bout of wild charging, the several dozen people at the front lay sprawled on the ground with broken bones and bloodied faces, while those behind shoved each other and fled screaming in panic.

Master Zhao took several blows before being knocked to the ground. Then the officers charging up from behind trampled over him, and a large foot happened to land squarely on his groin. The searing pain from below knocked him unconscious instantly. When he woke, the Embroidered Uniform Guard officers were nowhere to be seen, and around him were only a few dozen citizens still writhing and groaning in pain.

"A bunch of rabble! How did I have such bad eyes as to throw in with the likes of you! Why didn't you fight those bastards just now? A hundred of you beaten down by a dozen or so—spread that around and it's a disgrace! Pah!"

Dull pain throbbed through him. Gritting his teeth, Master Zhao forced himself to sit up. After glancing around, he began to curse.

"Eh? Where's my silver? Who took my silver? You thieving bastards—you must have picked my pocket in the confusion! Who took it? Hand it over now! Otherwise, I'm going to report this to the authorities!"

After cursing, Master Zhao reached into his bosom and felt around. To his surprise, only the wooden plaque remained—the silver ingots were gone. Forgetting the pain in his body in an instant, he leaped to his feet and pointed at the people lying on the ground, unleashing a torrent of abuse.