Chapter 683: When the Sky Falls, There's a Tall One to Hold It Up

Zhang Jinyan opened a bet.

Actually, according to his initial thoughts, he had inwardly sneered at Liu Chengzong's arrangement of placing him in the Provincial Administration Commission as an Erudite.

Although his previous official post was merely a county magistrate, to be honest, a young metropolitan graduate could hardly avoid feeling a sense of superiority in his heart toward a rebel regime like the Marshal's Manor.

In this era, a thirty-one-year-old metropolitan graduate with an outstanding record of four years as an official and two terms as a local magistrate — he didn't even need to think highly of himself; he was plainly a talent fit for a grand councilor, and everyone thought highly of him.

Never mind that he could endure obscurity in the talent-starved Marshal's Manor; even if you placed him in the Great Ming court, he could endure it just the same.

Temper him for twenty years, and so long as he wasn't ruined by factional strife or war, if he held steady he was certain to enter the imperial court's core.

The sole impetus that drove him to jump ship to the Marshal's Manor was his sense that, in this broader environment, the court most likely could not hold out for twenty years.

Therefore, he would rather come to the Marshal's Manor and sit on a cold bench.

Planting trees and raising rabbits, not the least bit anxious in a deserted, desolate government office.

First come, first served — just treat it as staking a spot. Anyway, the Marshal's Manor's local governance framework would soon be set up; how else would you govern the localities?

Sooner or later you'll have to use me.

But after Zhang Jinyan had stayed a month in the Shaanxi Provincial Administration Commission, he discovered that the Marshal's Manor, this damned place, truly hadn't been misnamed — damn it, it was completely different from what he had imagined.

Their grassroots framework was a pile of crap — no institutions, utterly barbaric, completely and totally rule by men.

How absurd could the Marshal's Manor get?

Take the newly established Longxi Circuit, which encompassed the two prefectures of Pingliang and Gongchang. The circuit's garrison commander was Wang Wenxiu, and under him, Mobile Corps General Yang Chengzu was responsible for stationing troops in Jingning Department.

Jingning Department's registered commoners: one thousand eight hundred thirty people; garrison troops: two thousand one hundred twenty people.

The department had no appointed department magistrate; the highest official was a prefectural judge named Ma Yuanli, formerly a Secretary of the Rites Bureau, a squad commander under the Western Camp's Eight Great Kings Zhang Xianzhong, and a fellow Yan'an native of the Grand Marshal.

Let's just say, how could his garrison troops outnumber the commoner population? And how did Ma Yuanli, a fierce and battle-hardened low-ranking officer, end up as the prefectural judge in charge of grain transport and water conservancy?

But it actually worked quite well. The official dispatches Ma Yuanli sent over every day were all plans for how many mu of land the commoners should reclaim, and how many irrigation channels had been repaired with the assistance of Mobile Corps General Yang Chengzu.

They even had to go to Pingliang Prefecture to borrow people just to repair a channel.

Or else it was reports about which general's family dependents from the Monan Protectorate had gone over to reclaim land.

Actually, these were still official documents Zhang Jinyan could understand.

But in late eleventh month, Mobile Corps General Yang Chengzu's report was rather strange. He said it was the agricultural off-season, and he wanted to bring the entire commoner population of Jingning Department to Pingliang Prefecture to spend the New Year.

Zhang Jinyan thought to himself, isn't this Yang Chengzu going to get chopped to pieces by Liu Chengzong?

He wasn't.

Not only was he not, the Grand Marshal greatly praised the idea, personally endorsed it, and told him to go have the Prince of Su, who was residing as a guest in the Han Prince's estate, provide the meals, and incidentally urge the Prince of Su to send a report to the court requesting his stipend grain.

The Prince of Su not only provided the meals, he actually sent a letter over, to be forwarded to the court via Xi'an Prefecture.

The Prince of Han at the Rites Bureau saw the letter and on the spot appointed an attendant from the Han princely lineage to deliver the letter to Hancheng.

Within a few days, the court's reply arrived.

Written by the Emperor himself, every word carefully weighed, the phrasing proper.

But the gist was that because the princely fief had fallen, the Prince of Su's property outside had all been confiscated, but the stipend grain still had to be provided — the court would not abandon him. You go ask the Shaanxi Provincial Administration Commission for it.

Imperial authority, in Zhang Jinyan's eyes, collapsed with a thunderous crash, shattering all over the ground.

But the Prince of Su immediately followed up and really did send the official dispatch requesting stipend grain to the Marshal's Manor's Rites Bureau, and the Rites Bureau really did handle it.

The Prince of Han, without a second word, apportioned this stipend grain levy to Hancheng County in the Shaanxi region.

Zhang Jinyan witnessed with his own eyes these strongmen treating state affairs and government business as child's play, and his entire spiritual world suffered an immense shock.

It was only then that Zhang Jinyan truly realized the weight carried by the three words "Marshal's Manor."

This was precisely a Marshal's Manor — all power belonged to the military men.

Across their vast territory, they simply had no mature political or hierarchical framework; everything was crammed into a military framework.

As the saying goes, imperial authority does not reach below the county — this refers to the Great Ming's Ministry of Personnel appointments, which only went down to the county level; any lower, to the township and village headmen, relied on local recommendation.

But the Marshal's Manor was, in all seriousness, one directly-administered prefecture, directly-administered department, and directly-administered county after another. Local chief officials basically had no Ministry of Personnel-style selection; it all relied on Liu Chengzong's personal appointment.

In some places, the one in charge was simply a military man.

Because every prefecture, department, and county had been conquered one by one by Liu Chengzong; he'd casually appoint someone, and a government office was established.

And never mind whether Liu Chengzong appointed a scholar or a military man — once they got to that position, they really could manage to get things done passably.

If the Great Ming was a bloated, complex, worn-out old machine that ran poorly everywhere.

Then the Marshal's Manor was a monster that relied on brute force, ran at breakneck speed, but was deformed.

To say this setup was absurd, it was very absurd, but Zhang Jinyan discovered that, except for Xi'an Prefecture, every other place had been plowed over by troops, and it really could run.

Only Xi'an Prefecture, which had not experienced brutal fighting and where the old political structures widely persisted and had absorbed many surrendered officials, had instead become the most troublesome place, nearly working the newly promoted Prefect Zhao Jichang to death.

It was precisely this bizarre framework that made Zhang Jinyan realize that Liu Chengzong putting him in the Provincial Administration Commission was truly not to wear down his sharp edges.

Rather, the Marshal's Manor genuinely had no need for a Shaanxi Provincial Administration Commissioner.

They simply didn't have the concept of a province.

Only then did Zhang Jinyan begin to feel a bit restless. He wanted to contribute his efforts to the Marshal's Manor, to quickly get himself noticed by Liu Chengzong, ideally to stay in the central administration, assist in absorbing more talent, and hammer out the framework for the Personnel Bureau, Provincial Administration Commission, prefectures, departments, and counties.

Otherwise, the Great Ming might not hold out for twenty years, but the Marshal's Manor definitely couldn't hold out for twenty years.

This thing had no flesh on it, just a body of bones, relying entirely on Liu Chengzong's ever-victorious prestige to barely cobble together a regime.

A blazing soul-fire sustained the skeleton soldiers' movements.

It was essentially magic.

Lose just one battle, and every bone in its body would fall apart.

On the third day of the New Year, Zhang Jinyan took his leave of Liu Chengzong, had his Qingjian student Wu Guoyong temporarily assume the Erudite's duties, and set off alone for Sanyuan to meet with the county magistrate Ye Ding.

Soon, word spread from the Sanyuan County yamen that the Grand Marshal intended to employ the worthy and capable, and requested enlightened gentry to enthusiastically recommend candidates to come to Xi'an to discuss great affairs.

Liu Chengzong lacked popular support among the people in these localities; the village and ward gentry were all thrown into turmoil by this news.

Quite a few people rushed in panic to the outskirts of Sanyuan to visit Wang Zheng, or else went to the northern part of Sanyuan to visit Jiao Yuanpu, hoping to find someone to steady their nerves.

But these two old men, faced with the gentry's expectation that they would take the lead, both remained silent.

Meanwhile, at the Sanyuan county office, Zhang Jinyan and Ye Ding were drinking together. Listening to the local licentiates' descriptions of the two families' situations, Zhang burst out laughing, clapped Ye Ding on the shoulder, and said, "Worthy brother, as long as those two keep quiet, this matter is already half done!"

Though Ye Ding truly was not used to such intimate gestures from him, he could not help but feel, deep in his heart, a sense of having found a truly understanding older brother.

After all, his position at the Marshal's headquarters was very awkward.

Although he had Liu Chengzong's implicit care, he had no access to the headquarters' great generals, and the Plumed Forest officers and Xining licentiates he could reach all dared not get too close to him.

And his adoptive father Mo Yujing had six adoptive sons alone, not to mention his own clan juniors — no one had time for him.

Only Zhang Jinyan, a surrendered official with a presented scholar degree, held nothing back from him, taught him how to handle government affairs and govern a locality, and whenever an opportunity for merit arose, eagerly pulled him along. This made Ye Ding deeply grateful.

Wrapped in a wolf-fur cloak and wearing official robes, Ye Ding still looked youthful in the face. Greatly puzzled by Zhang Jinyan's excitement, he asked doubtfully, "Brother Zhang, both of them staying silent on this matter — is that really a good thing?"

"This, worthy brother, you do not yet understand. Why have all these gentry sought them out now?"

Zhang Jinyan dipped a finger into the wine in his Yaozhou porcelain bowl and drew a circle on the stone table, smiling. "The people here — opposing the Marshal's headquarters has become every household's obsession. To rashly summon them to serve..."

He raised his hand and tapped his own face. "No one can bear to lose face, worried about the neighbors' gossip behind their backs. But if the headquarters truly bears down — worthy brother, you request fifty soldiers, pick a prominent household, and order them to serve — they won't be able to resist either."

"When the sky falls, the tall ones hold it up. Wang Zheng and Jiao Yuanpu — they are the tall ones."

Zhang Jinyan smiled and asked in return, "But guess, worthy brother — do these tall ones truly wish to be the tall ones?"

Ye Ding shook his head decisively. "Presumably not."

Back during the He-Huang Incident, what was their Ye family chieftain worth? The real tall one was the Li family chieftain. Yet there was that Li Tianyu, fighting fiercely beneath Horse Farm City while his father and uncle defended it.

"Exactly!"

Zhang Jinyan knew nothing of Ye Ding's past experiences and truly had not expected the lad to actually answer that correctly.

Because usually, those who become the tall ones, when trouble comes, often truly must step up and bear it.

This has nothing to do with whether they wish to be the tall ones or not. Circumstances and the crowd will prop them up there, with no way to retreat.

Zhang Jinyan lifted his wine bowl, took a small sip, and asked with a grin, "These two tall ones — since you took charge of Sanyuan, have you met them?"

Ye Ding shook his head. "Wang Zheng's son Wang Yongchun, and Jiao Yuanpu's sons Jiao Zhiya and Jiao Zhixia — they have come to the county office."

"Wang Yongchun has literary talent, and the Jiao brothers are men accomplished in both civil and martial arts. In the future, worthy brother, you could also recommend them to the Marshal."

Zhang Jinyan briefly mentioned the younger generation of the two families, then spoke of the elders. He began, "As for Wang Zheng, I am thoroughly familiar with him — military strategy and tactics, inventing ingenious devices, founding the Benevolent Society for disaster relief. He is an old gentleman who spent his whole life with unfulfilled talent, frustrated and unrecognized."

"The Benevolent Society is indeed effective at disaster relief."

Ye Ding nodded in praise, but his face showed hesitation. He asked, "However, his every word must invoke his Lord. I fear such heterodox views may displease the Grand Marshal. To be honest, I was just thinking of reporting this matter to the Grand Marshal."

Zhang Jinyan's face showed understanding.

The Benevolent Society founded by Wang Zheng was essentially a relief organization that spread the doctrines of the Western Scholars.

This was something of a Sanyuan tradition. In this region, because the social elite — officials as the model and gentry and wealthy commoners as the substance — were a powerful force, they played a very important role in local governance.

This model sometimes caused local forces to overstep the boundary between officials and commoners. Yet this was not usurpation or contempt for imperial authority; it was more like the elite cooperating with the government for self-preservation when society collapsed.

This situation was extremely unique in the entire realm.

Because in Shaanxi, filled with guard posts and military towns, military and civil affairs were dominated by the military. The influence of political power was, compared to other provinces, inherently rather weak.

Only in this commercially exceptionally developed triangular region of Yaozhou, Qianzhou, and Tongzhou was there no military force.

When Shaanxi's military and political structures collapsed, for other places, that meant utter ruin.

But in the triangular region, military and political power were usually relatively small, while civilian forces had always been strong, enabling them to burst forth with tremendous power when the government was utterly helpless before the situation.

This power helped the region repeatedly resist the peasant army's attacks and likewise, through civilian relief, resist the onslaught of drought and famine.

In this process, it inevitably took on personal styles.

Wang Zheng was proficient in Western learning, and thus Sanyuan's militia had the ability to cast their own red-barbarian cannons. And because Wang Zheng believed in the Western Scholars, Sanyuan's Benevolent Society naturally absorbed the church's methods of exhorting the people.

"In my humble opinion, worthy brother, you need not treat this as a major issue."

Zhang Jinyan shook his head and said with a serious expression, "On the contrary, for you, worthy brother, this is a good opportunity to learn. All folk sects and societies are the same — when the government fails its duty, naturally sorcerers leap forth to contend for power and profit."

"Worthy brother, since you are the honored chief of a county and father and mother to ten thousand people, simply watch what they do and imitate accordingly. He relieves the starving — you relieve them too. He sets up medicine halls — you take them over as public-benefit medicine halls. He establishes burial grounds — you take them over as the Pauper's Cemetery."

"At most, grant a few commendations and exemptions, sparing them from corvée labor, that is all."

"He must still pray to the Lord of Heaven. Worthy brother, as father and mother, your task is even easier — simply do everything he means to do, and leave him no road to walk."

Zhang Jinyan did not take this seriously at all. With a somewhat emotional air, he swayed his head and said, "Under Heaven, there is no might greater than the government's. If there is, then it must be a new government."

With that, he raised his hand and pointed eastward, laughing. "Yesterday, did not a whole battalion of soldiers flying the Big Dipper White Lotus banner receive the Grand Marshal's New Year's gift and march east?"

"The Grand Marshal's command is full of talent — all manner of demons and monsters, no lack of one more like Wang Zheng. Besides, the White Lotus Sect's Eternal Venerable Mother is far more violent than this or that lord of Wang Zheng's, and even she is meek and obedient now."

"Do well what he does, and you will be a worthy official for whom the Sanyuan villagers erect steles and shrines. And fulfill his wishes, and Wang Zheng naturally cannot escape the Grand Marshal's palm."

Toward Ye Ding, Zhang Jinyan truly spared no guidance.

His confidence as an official who had governed a region for several years earned Ye Ding's extreme admiration.

Ye Ding lacked such self-assurance and could not help but ask with great delight, "If Wang Zheng can be handled by this method, then what of Jiao Yuanpu?"

"Jiao Yuanpu, ah..."

Zhang Jinyan sighed with emotion and said, "I do not know him, but I know a little of his affairs. Worthy brother, you need only do three things."

"First, this man delights in being a teacher. Worthy brother, you must simply find a way to become his disciple."

"Second, ask your honored father to act — write a letter to Brigade Commander Zhang in Yan'an Prefecture and rescue a man from Yulin, named Jiao Yuanqing, Jiao Yuanpu's younger brother. Last year, the Emperor sentenced him to military exile."

"Third, at the appropriate time, submit a memorial to the Grand Marshal requesting the establishment of the Guanzhong Academy. Remember — it must be this name, Guanzhong Academy, located east of Baoqing Temple in Xi'an city."

"When the time comes, Jiao Yuanpu will come forth to serve of his own accord."

Zhang Jinyan wore a smile of assured victory. The Guanzhong Academy was founded by Jiao Yuanpu's teacher Feng Congwu, and Jiao Yuanpu had lectured there for twelve years.

When Qiao Yingjia served as Grand Coordinator of Shaanxi, he had the academy smashed and the statue of Confucius enshrined within thrown into the water pit at the corner of the city wall, angering Feng Congwu to death.

After the Chongzhen Emperor ascended the throne, the academy was restored, but no one lectured there anymore — it was turned into a shrine for Feng Congwu.

After the Marshal's army entered the city, they seized a great deal, and it became a warehouse piled with weapons, armor, cannonballs, and gunpowder.

In his heart, Zhang Jinyan very much hoped Jiao Yuanpu would come forth to serve, because he was truly a good official — and moreover, a good official who had been frustrated and unrecognized in the Great Ming.

His resignation from the post of Grand Coordinator of Datong was something he tendered himself.

Because the frontier military situation was urgent, troop pay and provisions were in severe shortage, and year after year of great disasters had left starving people sifting horse dung for food, Jiao Yuanpu petitioned for tax reductions and additional military funds, but the imperial court ignored him.

So last year, he impeached himself for a whole list of failings and retired to his home village on grounds of old age.

"But before that, my worthy brother, on one hand you must let slip word that the Grand Marshal intends to employ them heavily, yet on the other hand, you absolutely must not send anyone to recruit them."

Zhang Jinyan instructed Ye Ding, "They are all currently hemmed in by their own fellow villagers and will absolutely not take office now. Therefore, begin with the merchants. Once rifts in people's hearts coalesce into an overwhelming trend, then you can recruit them."

"Your younger brother thanks you for your elder brother's instruction!"

Ye Ding cupped his fists and bowed, then asked again, "In elder brother's opinion, with whom should your younger brother begin?"

"The local tribute students and wealthy merchants Liang Xing and Sun Zhensheng both have salt-trading operations in Chu territory, and many of their businesses lie east of Tong Pass. At this moment they are most likely frantic with anxiety."

"And then there is Jingyang — it is the general hub for northwest tea, tobacco, leather, and nitre processing, all of which are major specialty goods for the Grand Marshal's headquarters. This too can let my worthy brother render another meritorious service for the Grand Marshal."

Zhang Jinyan beamed as he patted Ye Ding on the shoulder. "Once the matter is accomplished, my worthy brother, do not forget to put in a few good words for your brother before the Grand Marshal!"