Chapter 948: Debt

A Daoist’s mouth can catch ghosts—and kill men.

Master Tang said he never wanted to experience it again.

In the end, he settled her five days’ wages and paid her severance for wrongful dismissal.

Miao He held the money and felt it burned her fingers; she whispered, “Little Master Shu, this is too much.”

“It’s only five taels in compensation—less than your monthly consultation fee. What’s so much? You didn’t do anything wrong. You were fired just because you couldn’t argue with him. Do you know how much time you’ll waste finding a new job? During that time, you won’t pay for lodging, food, or transport?”

“Besides, your reputation has been damaged now—you won’t find work as easily as before. All these damages combined, fifty taels wouldn’t be enough. Five taels is a bargain for him!”

Miao He looked utterly confused: “But… I never planned to find another job?”

“Wanting or not wanting is one thing; actual loss is another,” Pan Yun said. “Just because we’re powerful enough to leave Quanzhou and find work elsewhere doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be compensated. What’s ours, we take.”

Miao He rubbed her nose and whispered to Pan Yun: “Little Master Shu, we went to Renxin Hall with ulterior motives. You forgot—I peeked at their prescriptions…”

Pan Yun glared at her: “What do you mean ‘peeked’? The prescriptions in a pharmacy are public records—can’t the attending physician check them anytime?”

Miao He nodded.

Pan Yun: “Didn’t you lay the prescription right in front of him and discuss it with him?”

Miao He nodded.

Pan Yun: “Is that stealing?”

Miao He opened her mouth, sensing it wasn’t that simple, but couldn’t find a rebuttal.

Miao Zhen walked by, tapped her head, and said: “You’ve learned the wrong lesson from Third Master. Master Tang used the prescription to pressure Pu Min’s family for his own gain. If this blows up, Renxin Hall collapses. What’s wrong with you taking five taels from him?”

Miao He’s eyes flickered: “Then I’ll give these five taels to Pu Min’s family?”

Her wages, however, were hers by right—she’d keep them.

Neither Pan Yun nor Miao Zhen objected.

Miao He happily tucked the money away and went back to write down the prescriptions for Pu Min and her daughter.

Miao He: “Pu Yue’s prescription isn’t bad—even though it replaced one herb with a more expensive one, the actual efficacy is indeed stronger than the original, though I think it’s unnecessary.”

Tao Yanbai stepped forward, compared the two prescriptions, and immediately understood Pu Yue’s illness: “This is chronic weakness, likely congenital. Daily care is needed. The original prescription was excellent—it gently nourished the body, and each dose cost only twelve cash. One dose per day was light on the Pu family’s finances.”

“After switching to Dangshen and increasing the dosage, efficacy rose—but the price tripled. Since her illness requires daily medication, no wonder Pu Min couldn’t afford it later.”

Miao He: “The real problem is Wu Tai’s prescription. She suffered postpartum collapse—her body was too weak to absorb tonics. The original prescription was harmless—it at least kept her stable. But the new one, though it replaced two expensive herbs to boost qi and blood, was unsuitable. Her body couldn’t absorb it. For the first few months, she seemed better, more energetic—but it was actually internal imbalance, rising false heat burning her essence. Over time, if she caught cold or heat, the accumulated fire and pathogenic factors would erupt suddenly…”

Tao Yanbai murmured: “Could Wu Tai’s current condition be due to this prescription…? After Pu Min was imprisoned, didn’t the physician revert the prescription?”

Miao He paused, then said: “I only remembered to check last year’s prescriptions—I forgot to check this year’s.”

Pan Yun said: “Go see the patient tonight.”

Tao Yanbai and Miao He both lit up: “Us? What if we’re caught?”

Pan Yun: “With me, you won’t be caught.”

“Caught doing what?” Wang Cong pushed the door open, having just finished his work. He heard only the last sentence. Dust-covered and reeking, his eyes were bright as he scanned them, finally fixing on Pan Yun: “Little Master Shu, what are you dragging them into now?”

Pan Yun smirked: “Good news. I found you a great helper.”

Wang Cong blinked: “What kind of helper?”

Pan Yun: “Didn’t you always say you lacked manpower?”

Wang Cong: “I have enough hands—just not enough talent.”

Commerce is at the bottom rung. Talented people all chase the imperial examinations. It’s hard to find someone with both virtue and ability.

Pan Yun: “The one I found you is talent.”

Wang Cong: “Who?”

“You’ve met him. Pu Min.”

Wang Cong’s eyes widened slightly: “He’s a Pu clan member. How could he possibly work for me?”

Then he remembered: “Wait—he was arrested for ambushing the envoy and robbing the silver transport, wasn’t he?”

Pan Yun: “Do you think a lowly Pu clan branch guard could be involved in something like that?”

Wang Cong thought a moment. No, he couldn’t. Leaving that aside… “Pu Min is still honorable. Far better than that hypocrite Pu Si.”

Pan Yun: “A storm is coming. Though the coast is preparing, civilian losses are inevitable. I’ll persuade His Majesty to grant a general amnesty—and include him.”

Wang Cong doubted: “Can he even be included? He committed a serious crime.”

General amnesty doesn’t cover all offenses. Usually, it excludes the Ten Grave Offenses. Of course, some foolish emperors obsessed with “benevolence” might override this—but ministers rarely allow it.

Typically, pardoned offenses are minor: tax evasion, draft dodging, theft, brawling.

Pan Yun once overheard a joke while eavesdropping in the palace: some landlords would rush to the government office and confess to hiding taxes right after the emperor’s death and before the new one’s coronation.

Once imprisoned, they refused to pay back taxes or fines.

They’d be locked up.

Then, when the new emperor ascended, he’d usually grant amnesty—and their crime would fall within it.

Pan Yun didn’t know if it was true, but rumors don’t arise from nothing. She suspected someone really did this. After all, once punished, the government office couldn’t punish again.

If anyone did, did anyone do it last year?

Pan Yun smirked.

Zhu Qiyu’s ascension brought no general amnesty. Zhu Qizhen’s disaster weighed like a stone on the Great Ming’s heart. Everyone was focused—no amnesty.

But by this June, next month, the month after, grief had faded with time, leaving only indelible marks.

If another wind disaster strikes, a general amnesty would be perfect to soothe the people.

Pu Min’s crime isn’t pardonable—but a word to the emperor, and adding his name to the Ministry of Justice’s list won’t be hard.

Pu Min is the partner I’ve found for Wang Cong—and the subordinate I’ve found for His Majesty.

Pan Yun told Wang Cong: “Rest now. In a couple of days, I’ll take you to meet him.”

Wang Cong trailed after her, pleading: “Little Master Shu, I’m terrified. Are you abusing power for personal gain? You’ve been State Preceptor for barely eight months—already this corrupt?”

Pan Yun glared: “What are you thinking? Pu Min works for His Majesty.”

“Then what’s it to me? I don’t work for His Majesty…”

Pan Yun clapped his shoulder: “You don’t work for His Majesty—but you work for the Great Ming.”

Wang Cong scratched his head, stopped, and asked: “What’s the difference?”

Pan Yun stood at the door: “Of course there’s a difference. The emperor’s money goes to the Neiwu Prefecture. Yours? You keep it—but it serves the Great Ming.”

Wang Cong stared at her silently.

Pan Yun slammed the door shut. Her voice came from inside: “Go wash. You stink.”

Wang Cong lifted his arm and sniffed, then asked his junior disciples nearby: “Really that bad?”

All three nodded.

Wang Cong muttered: “It’s only been half a month since I bathed. I don’t smell it.”

Miao Zhen and the others stepped back two paces, putting distance between them.

Still, Wang Cong obeyed. He bathed and washed his hair. When he emerged half an hour later, his skin was red from scrubbing.

He lounged in the courtyard chair, damp hair loose, basking in the sun: “Stealing half a day’s peace—how nice the Great Ming is… The sky is bluer, the air sweeter…”

Tao Yanbai and the others ignored him. They were cooking dinner and boiling water. Wang Cong alone had used up a whole pot of hot water—unforgivable.

The courtyard was small—only one entrance. Beyond the gate lay the yard. Left: stable and cart storage. Right: kitchen and side rooms. Front: three main rooms. Center: main hall. Left: Pan Yun’s room. Right: Wang Cong’s. Tao Yanbai and the others lived in the side rooms.

Wang Cong rented this courtyard and the two beside it. The neighbors housed his men. Every time they returned to Haigang, they stayed here.

This central courtyard was always occupied only by Wang Cong. This time, with Pan Yun and the others back, it was lively.

Wang Cong felt comfortable. Comfort made him boastful. He crossed his right leg over his left, swaying, gazing at the colorful clouds, and waved his hand grandly: “I’ve decided—I’ll buy all three courtyards and hire two servants. One to wash clothes, one to cook! Third Master, Fourth Sister, Little Sister—you won’t have to cook anymore.”

Miao He thought it wasteful: “We only stay in Quanzhou a few days a year. Too wasteful.”

Tao Yanbai nodded: “We can cook ourselves. Grandmaster taught us since childhood: do your own work. Don’t rely on others. Don’t be extravagant.”

Wang Cong: “That’s saving time, using resources wisely. You’ve been with me in commerce too long—you’ve forgotten how.”

Miao Zhen finished rinsing rice and returned to the kitchen: “Best way to use resources? Hire temporary labor. When we arrive, hire people by the day or week.”

Wang Cong sat up straight: “Are there temporary workers in Quanzhou now? Last time I came, labor markets only took month-long contracts.”

Miao Zhen: “Now there are.”

Miao He raised her hand high: “I know! I heard the old ladies who came for treatment say earning money is easier now. Not only are they working, they’ve brought relatives from the countryside. Men haul cargo at the docks or run errands in town. Women wash clothes, cook meals—all earning. Then they turn their courtyards into sheds to rent to relatives. Family helps family—and they earn. Everyone’s happy!”

Pan Yun: “What about farm work?”

Miao He: “Who comes to town? Either landless tenants or those with little land. There’s enough labor. During busy seasons, they return home. So temporary workers are plentiful—many are paid daily. They love it.”

Miao Zhen, who wandered streets giving fortune readings, knew well: “Because long-term workers are often owed wages. They’re held captive, unpaid. Short-term workers earn less—but get paid quickly. Better than high wages you never receive.”

Pan Yun asked: “Are many long-term workers unpaid?”

Miao Zhen thought: “In just these five days, I’ve seen plenty.”

Pan Yun nodded, understanding.

The next day, she drifted to the docks to watch the spectacle. Seeing Lu Mingzhe standing with Cao Jixiang, she drifted over.

Lu Mingzhe saw her and bowed warmly: “State Preceptor also came to watch the ships enter port?”

Pan Yun nodded: “I heard yesterday’s fleet didn’t fully dock. I came to see the spectacle.”

Lu Mingzhe grinned toothlessly, delighted: “Yes! Another fleet of thirteen ships returned at dusk. June is peak maritime trade season—everyone rushes back now.”

Pan Yun: “Usually, November to January is the busiest.”

“True, true! That’s why I just told Commissioner Cao—this November, more ships will return. Shouldn’t Haigang be expanded?”

Pan Yun: “Too early to talk expansion. Suzhou port is being built. But more storage warehouses are needed.”

Lu Mingzhe immediately: “Warehouses are already insufficient. I’ve ordered construction. State Preceptor, look—over there.”

Pan Yun glanced afar and nodded: “I wondered why that area was always dusty. So they’re building warehouses. Commissioner Lu, you act on the people’s urgent needs. Well done.”

Being praised by Pan Yun felt to Lu Mingzhe like being praised by the Emperor.

Everyone knew that Pan Yun was now a favorite of the Emperor; if she spoke well of him just a few more times...

Just as he was delighted, Pan Yun asked: "Lord Lu, was this harbor construction carried out by corvée labor or hired workers?"

"Hired!" Lu Mingzhe knew Pan Yun disliked conscripting civilians; he immediately said: "The Prefectural Office and the Maritime Trade Office jointly paid for them, correct, Lord Cao?"

Cao Jixiang nodded.

Pan Yun smiled and said: "That’s good, but be sure to pay the workers on time—don’t let it become like elsewhere, where workers’ wages are constantly delayed."