Chapter 317: Catching the Goods

In the Li family alley near the southern city gate of Jining, there stood a large four-courtyard mansion with white walls and black tiles—ancient in style yet elegant, forming a stark contrast with the shabby civilian homes around it.

This was the residence of Lai Yongnian, the Bureau Director of the Yongji Granary, which he had purchased two years prior for a thousand taels of silver from a cloth merchant who, burdened by heavy business losses and urgently needing money to repay debts, had been forced to sell the property at a low price.

Officials of this era knew nothing of concealing wealth or practicing restraint. Regardless of rank, and no matter where the silver came from, as long as an official had money, he would spend it on grand mansions and beautiful concubines. When others discussed such matters, their faces showed nothing but envy—no one ever questioned how the owner of such a mansion had come by so much silver. Everyone wore an expression of utter self-righteousness.

As a low-ranking official of the ninth grade, Lai Yongnian had never once considered whether his rank befitted such a luxurious home and lifestyle. In the minds of the vast majority of officials, promotion and wealth were two inseparable things—and who, having gold, would not want to plaster it on their face for all to see?

Five years earlier, he had spent a considerable sum to cultivate a connection with Liu Fan, the Bureau Director of the Shandong Clearance Department of the Ministry of Revenue, and had thereby been transferred from a mere ninth-grade sinecure in the Ministry of Revenue straight to the post of Bureau Director of the Yongji Granary.

Do not underestimate a promotion of just one grade—this ninth-grade Director post was dripping with grease, and there were plenty of tricks to be worked within it. Moreover, at Lai Yongnian's request, Liu Fan had not dispatched a Deputy Director to the Yongji Granary, sparing Lai Yongnian one source of constraint.

Within a single year, Lai Yongnian had already recouped the two thousand taels of gift money he had paid out. Over the following five years, as his embezzlement operations grew increasingly polished, his annual income swelled by leaps and bounds. As his network of connections gradually expanded, he no longer limited himself to tampering with the grain tribute—in recent years he had even partnered with local strongmen to deal in smuggled salt, using tribute boats to smuggle large quantities of Huai salt for sale throughout the regions surrounding Yanzhou Prefecture. The Yongji Granary had become, to all appearances, a distribution center for smuggled salt.

But starting in the second half of the eighth year of Chongzhen, as the Embroidered Uniform Guard began to involve itself in the salt trade, this most lucrative business came to an abrupt halt.

Those who drink the water do not forget those who dug the well. Lai Yongnian's gifts to Liu Fan—festival offerings, summer and winter stipends, birthday gifts for his parents—all rose accordingly. And apart from Liu Fan, Lai Yongnian sent gifts to no one else. He understood perfectly well: as long as his gifts to Liu Fan were heavy enough, Liu Fan would handle the connections above on his own. He could not leap over the stove to climb onto the kang—going around Liu Fan to curry favor himself would violate the unwritten rules of officialdom.

"Master, word has come from over there—the fleet will reach the dock at the hour of You. They're asking whether we'll unload the grain today, and also whether there's been any change to that other matter. It's already the hour of Wei now. Could you give a word, Master, so I can hurry back with a reply?"

Inside the Yongji Granary office, the corpulently obese Lai Yongnian, dressed in a white under-robe, sat cooling himself beneath a wisteria trellis in the rear courtyard. On the stone table before him sat a plate of cut watermelon, while a copper basin filled with ice water rested on a stand nearby. Lai Yongnian casually tossed aside the half-gnawed slice of watermelon he had been eating and pointed at the cloth towel on the stone table. Jiao Wu, the attendant who had been standing at a bow asking his question, hurried forward, snatched up the towel, swished it in the ice water, wrung it out a few times, and handed it to Lai Yongnian. Taking the towel, Lai Yongnian wiped it roughly across his neck and face—the cool sensation finally brought him some relief.

Jiao Wu took the towel back from Lai Yongnian's hand and rinsed it in the ice water again, when Lai Yongnian spoke: "Xiao Wu, go tell them—tomorrow at the hour of Mao, begin unloading the grain into the granary! At night, same time as before! Tomorrow you stay at the dock and keep watch. Tell them this: after this batch is done, hold off for a while—wait for my word before doing any more! This is a business that must flow steadily like a long stream—no need to rush!"

"I'll go right away, Master! Do you have any other instructions?"

Jiao Wu wrung the towel dry and handed it back to Lai Yongnian, his face wreathed in smiles as he asked.

"Tonight I'm going to enjoy myself at Cuihong House, and I'll be spending the night at Miss Ruyue's place. When you've finished your business, come find me there!"

Lai Yongnian took the towel and wiped the sweat from his face as he gave his instructions.

"Right you are, Master! Rest easy! I'm off now!"

Jiao Wu turned and hurried away, beaming with delight.

That same afternoon, shortly before the hour of You, a fleet of over two hundred vessels arrived at the Jining dock, laden with tribute grain dispatched from western Zhejiang and bound for the Yongji Granary.

Since there was no unloading to be done for the moment, the boatmen and oarsmen disembarked in small groups, heading straight for the crude taverns and back-alley brothels by the dock to seek their own amusements. The fleet was left under the watch of the escorting tribute soldiers.

Just past the hour of Mao the next morning, several hundred wheelbarrows and over a dozen ox-carts were already lined up at the dock. Several hundred sturdy young men in short jackets sat or stood waiting beside the carts—these were the porters customarily hired by the Yongji Granary to haul grain, and this expense was likewise listed under the Ministry of Revenue's regular budget.

These young men were all farming households from nearby villages. Except during the busy farming seasons, they spent the year round seeking work at the dock. In the sweltering summer, most of them slept rough beside the dock; when the weather turned cold and cargo ships grew fewer, most returned home, with only a small number staying in the wagon inns to spare themselves the hardship of traveling back and forth.

Near the dock, close to the tribute boats, stood a row of thatched sheds. Several granary clerks of the Yongji Granary sat behind tables beneath the sheds, with brushes, ink, and account books laid out on the tables. Ten steelyard scales made of redwood were arranged in a row before the tables, and twenty burly young men stood before the scales in pairs. The tribute grain, once weighed, would be hauled by the porters to several large granaries located a few li away for storage.

Approaching the hour of Wu, aboard one of the boats that had already finished unloading, inside its cramped cabin, Jiao Wu was conversing with a swarthy middle-aged man. On the deck boards sat several plates of fish and shrimp to go with the wine, a jar of rice wine, and two small drinking bowls.

"Zhou Shuiya, is this batch of tribute grain all new rice? The summer harvest was just brought in—you wouldn't have swapped it for old grain along the way, would you?"

Before Zhou Shuiya could answer, Jiao Wu picked up a chopstick-full of steamed canal knife fish and stuffed it into his mouth, then could not help praising: "Old Zhou, your skill with fresh fish is truly something! If I had your knack, I'd have opened a tavern long ago—I'd be raking in money hand over fist, guaranteed!"

"Master Jiao Wu jests—you're the favored man at Master Lai's side. 'Earning a fortune daily' might be an exaggeration, but in a single year, ten tavern keepers together don't take in what you do, Master Jiao Wu! This batch is all new rice, every bit of it. If you don't believe me, go check for yourself. We've been doing business for years now—can you really not trust the character of me, Zhou Shuiya?"

Zhou Shuiya was the fleet captain of this convoy. His forebears had spent generations in the tribute army, and he had dealt with the Directors of every granary along the canal. He was thoroughly versed in all the ins and outs of grain transport.

Jiao Wu chuckled to himself and lowered his head to focus on attacking that canal knife fish.

The hundred thousand shi of tribute grain was not fully unloaded until the hour of You that afternoon. After finishing their wine, Jiao Wu and Zhou Shuiya returned to the dock, walked around the area a few times, and finding no unfamiliar faces, simply hid themselves aboard Zhou Shuiya's boat for a sound sleep—they did not wake until around the hour of Shen. Zhou Shuiya informed him that everything was in readiness; most of the boats had already departed and were waiting at the Linqing dock, while the few dozen tribute boats remaining were crewed by men long accustomed to this sort of business.

At Zhou Shuiya's warm insistence, the two found a tavern near the dock and shared a few cups of wine, not parting until the sky had visibly darkened. Jiao Wu headed straight for the granary a few li away, while Zhou Shuiya returned to his boat.

By around the hour of Xu, all was silent in the open countryside. Suddenly, from afar came a clamor of chaotic noise—a long line of lanterns forming a fiery dragon rushed toward the Yongji Granary. A convoy of over fifty mule-and-horse carts emerged from the darkness, guided by the lanterns, and arrived before the gate of one of the granary storehouses.

Jiao Wu, who had been waiting for some time, came out through the side gate. After exchanging a few brief pleasantries with the man who came forward from the convoy to meet him, Jiao Wu returned to the granary courtyard. Immediately after, the heavy gate was slowly opened from within, and the long convoy filed one by one into the spacious yard.

Roughly half an hour later, when the convoy had finished loading its first batch of over six hundred shi of grain and arrived at the dock, and Zhou Shuiya was calling the men aboard to come onto the dock and begin loading and unloading—a thunderous report from a fire lance tore through the silent night air, startling the men frantically at work. The surroundings suddenly blazed bright, and in the light of over a hundred burning torches, a large force of armed warriors wielding swords and spears surged out of the darkness, surrounding everyone in the open ground. One warrior climbed atop a large cart in the middle of the yard, raised a strange-shaped object to his mouth, and bellowed: "The Embroidered Uniform Guard is conducting official business! Kneel and you shall live! Resist and you die!"