Chapter 42: Killing

Xiu Yuanbo, Liang Rang, was overthinking it. From the very start, Diwu Lun had never entertained the idea of using Yang Xiong as a talent-spotter to advertise himself and ride on celebrity fame.

Jing Dan and Wang Long were friends he had spent much time with — wasn't it only right to go through fire and water for a friend?

Yang Xiong was different. Although Diwu Lun had only studied the scholarship of regional dialects with him intermittently, in the eyes of others, he had already become his formal disciple. All the wine and meat old Yang Xiong sponged off at his house were taken as the tuition bundles of a student's gift.

People of the time placed great weight on the master-disciple bond, revering a teacher as one's own father. Once the name of master and disciple existed, one could not act recklessly. Diwu Lun still had this much sense of propriety.

What was more, after over a month of association, Diwu Lun had gradually come to understand Yang Xiong better and guessed that he would certainly not be willing.

Yang Xiong's senior disciple Hou Ba had told Diwu Lun: "Back when the Master was writing the 'Exemplary Sayings,' a rich man in Shu offered a hundred thousand cash, just hoping to have his name left in the book. The Master flatly refused, saying that the rich merchant was wealthy but unkind, just like a deer in a pen or an ox in a stall — how could he be recorded so casually?"

Now Yang Xiong had entered his seventies. If there was wine and meat, he would eat a little; if not, he would squat at home, absorbed in his scholarship that differed from the common Confucians, considering himself content in poverty and devoted to the Dao.

Diwu Lun had read Yang Xiong's "Rhapsody on Expelling Poverty," said to be his last fu. It begins with "Master Yang withdrew from the world, leaving the vulgar to dwell alone," and feigns a dialogue between himself and the god of poverty. At first he reproaches "Poverty" for coming to trouble him. "Poverty" defends itself, and in the end he is actually persuaded by "Poverty," deeming poverty a good thing and resolving: "Long shall I dwell with you, never wearying to the end. Poverty, driven off, will not depart, but roam and rest with me."

In short, Yang Xiong was no deadbeat who owed money — how could he possibly set aside the dignity of a great literary master to act as a shill for merchants and advertise for them?

Besides, relying solely on the grand opening spectacle at the tavern — something absolutely unprecedented in this age — was enough to make the coal briquettes famous. Once anything gains a name, it will not lack a market.

"On the very first day, we sold nearly ten thousand jin!"

That evening, Di Si Xian came beaming to report the news. It sounded like a lot, but in truth it was not. Diwu Lun had weighed it: one jin in the Xin Dynasty was roughly equivalent to two and a half liang of later times — the weight of one small coal briquette. The goods carted in over these past few days had been nearly swept clean, and the First Watch had already sent carts traveling back and forth through the night to transport more.

The Di Si and Di Yi clans were beaming with delight: "If we could sell nearly ten thousand every day, we would probably have to add more hands and increase production."

Diwu Lun was not as optimistic as they were. Although the first day had been a great victory, coal briquettes actually held little advantage over charcoal.

"This was only the first day. Going forward, selling a thousand jin a day would be quite good."

In the days that followed, it was just as Diwu Lun had predicted: daily sales of coal briquettes grew fewer and fewer, finally stabilizing at a little over a thousand jin.

Though the briquettes sold in large volume, it was really a matter of small profits on large sales. Diwu Lun had calculated that, after deducting transport fees and costs, one briquette weighing one new jin only earned about two huoquan cash in profit — and that was without paying the workers any wages. After dividing the profits, the Diwu clan could at most net thirty or forty thousand cash a month, enough to exchange for over a hundred dan of grain. Over a year, that was equivalent to opening up ten more qing of land.

"Had it not been for Boyu's brilliant plan, we would likely have lost everything this time." Di Si Xian was full of feeling. His own clan had been merchants for years in vain, yet when it came to sales, compared to Diwu Lun's flashy maneuvers, they were like little brothers. He could not help feeling ashamed, and even proposed giving another half share of the profits to the Diwu clan.

"The contract is already set — how can it be altered so easily? If it must be changed, then a flaw has appeared, and the three families should sit down and discuss it together."

And then let him dictate the outcome.

Diwu Lun told Di Si Xian to rest easy. There were still many places where he would need the Di Si clan in the future; there was no need to take advantage over trifling profits.

It seemed he would still have to circumvent the court's Six Monopolies prohibitions as much as possible, secretly deal in some luxury goods, and swindle the money of the powerful houses in Liewei Commandery — that was where the real windfall profits lay. When that time came, he would not need to rely on the Di Si clan's means of production, and it would be fine for his own family to take ninety percent of the profits.

Around Chang'an, court controls were relatively strict, and merchants dared not barter goods directly. The residents north of the city wall mostly used spade coins and huoquan cash for transactions. But as soon as these copper coins came into hand, Diwu Lun had Di Si Xian immediately go to the market and exchange them for hard currency — cloth and grain.

The Xin Dynasty under Wang Mang issued orders in the morning and changed them by evening. From officials to commoners, no one dared to hold onto money. Thrice breaking an arm makes one a good doctor; the people of the realm had suffered losses too many times and feared that one day Wang Mang would have another fit and abolish the currency in circulation.

Thus money was cheap and grain dear. Di Si Xian felt the pinch but knew there was no way around it. He only quietly complained to Diwu Lun: "If only we could exchange copper coins for gold and keep it, as in the Former Han."

In the Han dynasty, gold was the superior currency, but Wang Mang had issued a decree nationalizing gold, ordering that from the rank of Marquis down, no one was permitted to possess gold privately; it all had to be delivered to the state treasury in exchange for goods of equivalent value. Yet Di Si Xian said it was not equivalent at all. Back then, one jin of gold could only be exchanged for two bronze engraved knives inscribed "One Blade Worth Five Thousand" — it was outright robbery!

"Everyone says, exchanging gold for copper — the copper you get doesn't even weigh as much as the gold you handed over!"

What was even more brilliant was that, a few years later, the engraved knives were abolished.

Diwu Lun sighed with feeling: Wang Mang was truly a skilled leek farmer. Although many people secretly hoarded gold, none dared to bring it out and use it. It was only rumored that Wang Mang had gathered all the gold under heaven into the palace, where gold cakes were piled into little mountains.

Diwu Lun licked his lips: "I wonder, in the end, who will get those piles of gold for cheap?"

Now, restricted by court laws and decrees, after earning profits from commerce, buying land or buying slaves as in the past was no longer feasible. Grain had a shelf life, and it was not good to exchange too much at once. Thus, the surplus profit capital was left with only one use.

"Expand reproduction..."

Diwu Lun smiled. With so many of Wang Mang's outrageous maneuvers blocking annexation, and thinking again of the Five Equalization system that gave loans to small industrial and commercial proprietors — surely he wasn't trying to force out the sprouts of capitalism?

He told Di Si Xian to hire craftsmen, build water-powered trip-hammers, make molds to improve the efficiency of briquette production, and find a way to buy some iron to renew the tools of the workers and farmers. The efficiency of the small coal pit had to improve. Once the snow fell, by the twelfth month work could no longer continue — people really could freeze to death then.

With the production and sale of coal briquettes on the right track, Diwu Lun no longer needed to keep running over there. By the third rest day of the eleventh month, he was finally able to find time to do something long delayed.

"To Maoling!"

There were three bridges over the Wei River in all. The Western Wei Bridge, also called the Bianmen Bridge, was the necessary route for travel between Chang'an and the western parts of Yong Province.

After crossing the Bianmen Bridge, Diwu Lun raised his head and looked out. From east to west, across the loess plateau, many small hillocks were scattered, thick with trees that still held green even in the midwinter cold. In truth, those were not hills, but the imperial tombs of the Han.

From Emperor Jing of Han's Yangling and Emperor Gaozu of Han's Changling, to Anling, Weiling, Pingling, and others — nine in all. Though the Former Han's altars of state had perished, these colossal tombs still stood here in silence, like the broken body of an empire.

The largest tomb mountain, farthest to the west, was precisely Emperor Wu of Han's Maoling.

And the capital of Jingwei Commandery, already renamed Xuancheng County, sat just north of Maoling.

Although from a distance one could already see the tip of Maoling's peak, gazing at the mountain can run a horse to death. It was over a hundred li from Chang'an, a two-day round trip. On the seventeenth day of the eleventh month, Diwu Lun had just stepped out of the Gentlemen's Office and hurriedly left the city, racing to reach the Xiliu Post north of Bianmen Bridge just as the moon climbed to the zenith, planning to rest there for the night.

This place had originally been where Zhou Yafu of the Former Han stationed troops to defend against the Xiongnu. Now it was abandoned, the ramparts leveled and developed into fertile fields. By the roadside was a small post station, where passing courier riders and travelers could rest their feet.

Just as he entered the Xiliu Post, he saw several men standing in the courtyard, all armored officials and soldiers bearing swords, shoving the prisoners they were escorting into the lockup beside the post privy for detention. Diwu Lun only caught a glimpse of one prisoner's back, which looked somewhat familiar, but before he could look closely, the lockup door slammed shut.

From one side came a hearty laugh: "Isn't this Boyu?"

He turned his head to look — it was none other than Ma Yuan, who had helped the Diwu clan greatly half a month ago.

"Supervisor Ma..."

"Just call me Wenyuan, no need to stand on ceremony." Ma Yuan was also clad in armor, a scarf and cap on his head, a blade hanging at his waist. This supervisor, it seemed, was skilled with both pen and sword.

"Boyu, passing through Xiliu Post late at night to lodge — where are you hurrying off to?"

"I am on my way to Maoling... Xuancheng." Diwu Lun said, "These days I've been bogged down with office documents at the Gentlemen's Office and haven't had time to visit your home to thank you. I didn't expect to run into you here."

"A trifling matter — I'd nearly forgotten it." Ma Yuan waved his hand, paying little mind to the previous favor of helping the Diwu clan escape prosecution. His character was chivalrous and loyal; after so many years traveling the world, he had no idea how many people he had casually helped along the way.

Ma Yuan glanced at the small lockup his men were guarding, then suddenly asked: "Boyu, your circle of acquaintance is wide. This trip to Maoling — I'm afraid it's not just to seek me out, is it?"

"Indeed."

Knowing that Ma Yuan liked straight talk, Diwu Lun did not hide it: "In the autumn I was indebted to Yuan Juxian. This trip is also to pay a visit to the Yuan clan and behold the bearing of a great knight-errant of Guanzhong."

"What a coincidence, then." Ma Yuan placed his scabbard on the table and said, "It's lucky that Boyu ran into me halfway, or else you would have made the trip for nothing."

"Why is that?"

"Yuan Juxian has gotten himself into big trouble." Ma Yuan said darkly, "Now he has shut his gate and refuses all guests — sees no one at all."

So unlucky? Diwu Lun asked curiously: "I have heard that Yuan Juxian's word carries more weight than the County Magistrate's. It's always his house guests who provoke others — who would dare provoke him?"

Ma Yuan sighed: "It's nothing but the court vigorously prosecuting the crime of corruption. The former Magistrate of Xuancheng County was thrown in prison, so a new County Magistrate was appointed. People call him Lord Yin, and he has long had the name of a harsh official. But on the day Lord Yin took up his post, everyone went with gifts to greet him at the city gate — only Yuan She did not come."

The great knight-errant Yuan overplayed his hand, Diwu Lun thought, shaking his head to himself. In this age, so much weight was placed on personal ties and ritual courtesy that one careless move could give offense — especially to the narrow-minded. Yuan She had grown arrogant and overbearing, calling commandery Grand Governors his brothers and looking down even on full County Magistrates, let alone a mere "acting magistrate" like Yin Gong.

Ma Yuan drummed his fingers on the low table. "Just at that time, a retainer of Yuan She's household went to the market to buy meat. Trading on Yuan She's bluster, he got into a quarrel with a butcher."

Up to this point, Diwu Lun had still been in the mood of a bystander enjoying the show. At this, he laughed. "Don't tell me he demanded the butcher take ten jin of tender cartilage and mince it fine, with not a speck of meat left on top?"

In any case, the butcher was no pushover either. The two came to blows, and the Yuan retainer drew his blade on the spot, striking the butcher and wounding him badly, then fled.

Just as Guo Jie had been ruined by the reckless gallants under his roof in years past, arrogant retainers were a double-edged sword. It was fortunate that Diwu Lun had not taken in any of those young toughs back in Changling. He would rather find honest men from within his own clan, or take in children of decent character like Zhang Yu and Zhu Di and train them up slowly.

Ma Yuan said, "On an ordinary day, a minor matter like this would have meant sending men to arrest the retainer — no one would have dared make trouble for Yuan Juxian. But as it happened, Yin Gong was newly appointed and eager to build enough prestige to cow the magnates of Maoling. On top of that, the court was strictly investigating corruption. Yin Gong bundled the two matters together, determined to prosecute Yuan She thoroughly for indulging his retainer's crimes, and to pursue the charge that the Yuan family's funerary compound was extravagantly built, exceeding the sumptuary regulations."

In his youth, Yuan She had observed the full three years of mourning for his father, refusing tens of millions in funeral funds. After he had won renown and risen in the world, he felt he had wronged his deceased father, and so spent a fortune rebuilding the funerary compound. He bought land and opened a processional way, building the tomb complex with encircling galleries and layered gates, erecting stone carvings and inscribed stelae on a scale rivaling princes and marquises. The locals called it "the Yuan Family Mausoleum."

"With the backing of the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties' office, and prompted by the counsel of his subordinate clerk Wang Youweng, Yin Gong pressed both charges at once, determined to kill Yuan Juxian to make an example. As you must know, Boyu, at this critical juncture even the commandery Grand Governor dared not rashly step in to help Yuan She escape conviction."

Indeed, Diwu Lun's own patron, Zhang Zhan, had kept well clear of his family's troubles.

"Fortunately, Yuan She had many friends. The great clans of the same commandery — the Gongsuns, the Qins, and others — were all on good terms with him, and only through their persuasion was Yin Gong convinced to let Yuan Juxian off. In the end, Yuan She had to strip to the waist, bind himself, have arrows threaded through both ears, and go to the county office's court gate to offer his apology."

How the wheel of fortune turns — exactly the same method Yuan Chu had used to humiliate Diwu Biao that autumn. It could never have crossed Yuan Chu's mind then that his own father would one day suffer the same.

"The Master of Fates of the Five Majesties reported the case to the court, and Yin Gong was promoted directly from provisional acting magistrate to full County Magistrate. Had the matter ended there, Yuan She would merely have suffered humiliation at the County Magistrate's hands and seen his reputation swept away. Only…"

Here Ma Yuan paused, drawing closer to Diwu Lun. "Yuan Juxian submitted, but the sons, younger kinsmen, and retainers under him were deeply resentful. When they learned that Yin Gong, on the advice of his subordinate clerk Wang Youweng, had ordered the Yuan Family Mausoleum torn down, their fury boiled over."

Diwu Lun said, "Surely they wouldn't go so far as to kill the County Magistrate, Yin Gong?" That would be a case grave enough to alarm the Six Colonels — Yuan She would have to flee, or raise an outright revolt.

Ma Yuan shook his head. "For all their usual arrogance, the Yuan household lacked the nerve for that. But yesterday, someone went to the home of the subordinate clerk Wang Youweng. They killed Wang Yougong and his father, severed both their heads, and left."

With this atrocity of a wiped-out household, a case that had already been settled at once stirred up again. Yuan She was in danger of becoming a second Guo Jie. Diwu Lun thought of the prisoner Ma Yuan was escorting and sudden understanding dawned. "The prisoner Wenyuan is transporting — could it be one of the Yuan retainers?"

"Exactly. The killer turned himself in at the commandery seat this morning. The commandery assistant finished the interrogation in two hours."

Ma Yuan watched Diwu Lun, studying his expression. "The prisoner I am ordered to escort to the office of the Master of Fates in Chang'an happens to be an acquaintance of yours, Boyu."

He smiled. "It is none other than Wan Xiu — Wan Junyou."

…

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