Chapter 949: Correction

Cao Jixiang's heart stirred: "Unpaid wages? Are many people outside withholding workers' wages?"

Pan Yun spoke softly: "My lord Cao resides here constantly and is chief of the Maritime Trade Office—I assumed this was no secret between the two of you. Did my lord Cao not know?"

Cao Jixiang's face flushed slightly, embarrassed—he had just been served his own medicine.

Lu Mingzhe's face turned even redder than Cao Jixiang's; he hurriedly said: "I will immediately send men to investigate. If workers' wages are truly being withheld, I, your humble official, will punish them without mercy."

"Look, my lord Lu," Pan Yun pointed to the laborers in short shirts and shorts, wearing only straw sandals, bent low, heads down, hauling crate after crate from the ships, "they exert the greatest effort but earn the least—every coin is paid with their bodies and lifespans. To withhold workers' wages is to be unworthy of humanity."

Lu Mingzhe's face grew solemn; he nodded and replied, "Yes."

Pan Yun spoke with deep implication: "Where there is oppression, there is resistance, my lord Lu. Deng Maoqi's case was only settled half a year ago. Quanzhou is not Ninghua—if something happens here, the imperial court's entire plan will collapse, and you will have to pay with your life."

With that, she turned to Cao Jixiang: "My lord Cao, shall we go see their customs declarations?"

Cao Jixiang snapped back to attention and quickly stepped aside to invite Pan Yun to proceed.

Lu Mingzhe hurried after them; after inspecting the dock and returning, he immediately summoned all his subordinates—especially the County Magistrate of Jinjiang.

Lu Mingzhe flew into a rage: "A pack of money-grubbing scoundrels! How much are workers' wages? Yet they still withhold them! Investigate! Check every merchant house, every shop, every workshop on the dock!"

Vice Prefect Yan sneered: "I told you long ago—merchants chase profit. The new policies are too lenient toward them. The court keeps favoring merchants; this year, to facilitate trade, it abolished several tax checkpoints and cut many officials. In my view, we should follow ancestral precedent: prioritize agriculture and suppress commerce. My lord, around Fucheng, many farmers have abandoned their fields and flooded into the city to work. The city gates can't even check household registrations anymore. These people are cunning—non-residents from other counties sneak in to work without travel permits. If this continues, the travel permit system will become meaningless."

Vice Prefect Zheng murmured: "Travel permits restrict movement. Now that Quanzhou's commerce is growing, labor demand is high. Why not relax the requirements for travel permits at checkpoints?"

Vice Prefect Yan was furious: "Vice Prefect Zheng, I'm speaking of the court's duty to prioritize agriculture and suppress commerce—not to be so lenient toward merchants! Why are you turning things upside down?"

Vice Prefect Zheng replied calmly: "I disagree with you. Everyone can see how commerce benefits Quanzhou. At this moment, we should support commerce and let it flourish smoothly."

"Foolish!" Vice Prefect Yan slammed his fist on the table. "Merchants chase profit. Now that they've just begun, they dare withhold wages. If this continues, won't they turn the world upside down?"

"Then regulate them," Vice Prefect Zheng said. "Fix one problem as it arises. How can we throw out the baby with the bathwater? Besides, merchants who aim to grow strong and large place trust first. Vice Prefect Yan, merchants chase profit—but they also place trustworthiness first. Otherwise, how did private money shops come into being?"

He added with deep implication: "My lord Prefect is investigating withheld wages, isn't he? Then let's precisely tally who these defaulters are."

Lu Mingzhe's eyes narrowed slightly: "Vice Prefect Zheng knows?"

Vice Prefect Zheng replied solemnly: "I do not know. But Judge Cao Tui and County Magistrate Wu should know something, yes? Workers who can't collect wages will endure once, twice—but eventually, they will petition the government office."

Lu Mingzhe turned to Judge Cao Tui and County Magistrate Wu, both bowing their heads in silence, and coldly ordered: "Speak!"

Withholding wages has existed since ancient times.

Before Quanzhou's commerce revived, it was mostly landlords and gentry who withheld wages from long-term laborers.

For example, harvesting rice for twenty days, paying only for ten—and promising the remaining ten days' pay "later."

Since landlords and gentry held power, laborers still needed them to herd cattle, repair houses, and till land. They couldn't escape the temple—so long as they didn't starve, they dared not press for payment.

If the people didn't complain, the officials naturally didn't investigate.

This habit carried over into their workshops—for instance, dye workshops routinely withheld two months' wages.

In comparison, workshops and shops run purely by merchants were more trustworthy—they might oppress workers by increasing quotas or silently extending work hours, but they paid wages on time.

But when Quanzhou's commerce was undeveloped, laborers had no choice, information was scarce, and comparisons were impossible—so the issue never surfaced.

But since last year, Quanzhou's commerce began to flourish, especially after the maritime ban was lifted, merchants from all over flooded into Quanzhou.

Huge business opportunities brought massive employment.

In this year, dye workers' daily wages in Quanzhou rose five cash—due to labor shortages—after decades without a single cash increase.

In a feudal society, information spreads slowly. Rural areas still held vast idle labor, but they received no news; those who heard had no guides, and few dared enter the city to seek work.

Under these conditions, merchants competed for limited labor, and labor prices rose.

Whether foreign or local, excluding those who specialized in fraud, all honored their promises—at least, they didn't withhold workers' wages.

Come now—who among merchants dares withhold workers' wages?

Especially foreign merchants—if they angered these laborers, and the workers mobbed them or sabotaged their goods, it would be a disastrous loss.

So merchants treated workers with relative courtesy—at least, they dared not withhold promised pay.

But local landlords and gentry had not yet escaped their old ways; they still followed past customs.

With maritime trade booming, everyone knew how to make money. Landlords and gentry rushed in with their cash, accustomed to using servants and near-free labor, never budgeting for workers' wages.

Some had budgeted—but they simply refused to pay, because they had money.

Good customs take years to take root and be learned; but bad customs, because they offer quick self-interest, spread rapidly.

Soon, some merchants with modest means or short-sighted vision began copying them.

Workers once endured—but now they had more choices.

If one place won't keep me, another will. They no longer swallowed their anger silently. So when wages were withheld too long, they demanded payment; if the employer still refused, they petitioned the government office.

At first, County Magistrate Wu treated these as ordinary cases: pay what was owed, and for those who refused, he sealed their shops or beat them with the bamboo cane.

But last year, he received no more than three cases of withheld wages; now, he received three a day.

County Magistrate Wu glanced at Judge Cao Tui, then whispered to Lu Mingzhe's grim face: "There are simply too many. I noticed something was wrong, so I wrote an analysis for you, my lord. Didn't you see it?"

Lu Mingzhe turned to his secretary: "Did I see it?"

The secretary immediately shook his head: "My lord, I have not seen any document regarding this matter."

Lu Mingzhe's gaze swept over Gao Tongpan, who had remained silent—and sneered.

Screening and reviewing documents was usually his duty.

Pan Yun preferred nighttime outings; she and Miao and Tao Yanbai slipped into the Pu household to treat Madam Pu and Pu Yue, while Lu Mingzhe was raging in the government office.

The next day, government office runners from the prefectural and county yamens poured out, armed with the list compiled by County Magistrate Wu, visiting every household to confront employers who withheld wages;

Simultaneously, Lu Mingzhe ordered all county magistrates and village heads of Jinjiang to bring local landlords, gentry, and major merchants to the prefectural government office for discussion.

The managers of all major merchant houses in Quanzhou were also invited.

Wang Cong, who owned three ships and had Pan Yun—the state master's uncle—as his patron, was also invited.

So he went to the government office to attend a legal education session—and also, under Lu Mingzhe's leadership, to make commitments: no withholding of workers' wages, and raising the minimum wage for laborers…

When he returned to his villa after leaving the government office, Wang Xiaojing, who had been busy all day, ran over and said: "Cong-ge, our goods are almost all sold. Only a little remains—should we sell them ourselves?"

Wang Cong: "Sell them ourselves?"

Wang Xiaojing nodded, his face slightly flushed: "Aren't you the one who said we wouldn't sail again until late August? I just thought—since we've got this little leftover cargo, why not sell it ourselves, heading toward Long Hushan, selling as much as we can along the way."

Wang Cong tapped his forehead and laughed: "You're missing home, aren't you? You want to go back."

Wang Xiaojing nodded sheepishly: "Didn't you used to do business the same way when you traveled?"

"True, but that way is too hard—you earn every copper with sweat."

Wang Xiaojing: "I'm not afraid of hard work, and neither are the brothers!"

Most of those now sailing with Wang Cong were former comrades who had joined the rebellion—miners from the mountains, strong-bodied, resilient, and unafraid of hardship!

As long as they could make money, as long as they could return home to see their families, they weren't afraid of hardship at all.

Wang Cong thought it over: last night, observing the stars, Seeing Miao Zhen had said a strong wind might arrive within these few days; staying here was worse than going home to check on things.

He nodded: "Alright, we won't sell the rest. Have someone pack it up—tomorrow, you and Dalin head toward Jiangxi. I'll give you a route map."

He said: "There are many ways home—some cities suit business, others don't. I know this route well. I'll draw you a map and assign a companion to go with you."

Wang Xiaojing nodded eagerly, curious: "Cong-ge, aren't you coming back with us?"

Wang Cong evaded: "You go first—I'll return later. Watch your step on the road. If you meet bandits, save your life first."

Wang Xiaojing and the others weren't afraid at all—they were rebels at heart.

As Wang Xiaojing turned to leave, he remembered something and turned back: "By the way, Cong-ge, I think I saw Seeing Miao Zhen and Seeing Miao He this morning. Weren't they left behind in Waiguo?"

The three hadn't sailed back with Wang Cong; Wang Xiaojing had always assumed they stayed in Waiguo and didn't even know Pan Yun had gone to Waiguo.

Wang Cong laughed and patted his head: "Yes, they came back. Little Xiao Shishu brought them back."

Wang Xiaojing's eyes lit up: "Little Xiao Shishu!"

"That's right—Little Xiao Shishu."

Wang Xiaojing ran back to tell Song Dalin.

Song Dalin gathered the brothers for a quick meeting, and they all agreed to pool money for a lavish meal to welcome Pan Yun.

They had made a lot of money now.

Of course, to the rich, their money meant nothing—but to them, they had truly made a fortune.

Song Dalin's personal wealth had just surpassed three hundred taels, and he still had a little hidden cargo left to sell; once sold, he'd likely recover another twenty or thirty taels.

The thrifty Song Dalin had already planned: the three hundred taels stay untouched; this time ashore, he'd use only the twenty or thirty taels—it was more than enough.

He could quit right now, return home with three hundred taels, buy land, build a house, marry a wife, and live comfortably.

Others had earned less, but each had at least one hundred taels saved.

Wang Cong managed his men with strict discipline. Many had gone to Waiguo with him—three trips total, nearly five hundred men, including some who loved drinking, gambling, and women.

He tolerated drinking and eating, but once anyone touched gambling or prostitutes, he refused to let them board his ships.

Mining alone could never earn this much.

But with Wang Cong, it could.

Whether they were miners from Da Sen Village or workers lucky enough to be chosen to sail with Wang Cong, all deeply appreciated Pan Yun.

Because she had blazed the first path—and led them out of Jiangxi.

So when Song Dalin suggested it, everyone immediately agreed, each tossing in a tael here, a tael there.

They pooled over a hundred taels; Song Dalin immediately took several brothers out to buy ingredients and even went to their favorite restaurant to hire the chef.

The task of inviting Pan Yun fell to Wang Xiaojing.

Wang Xiaojing trailed closely after Wang Cong, squeezed into their courtyard, propped his chin up, and waited for Pan Yun to return.

"Cong-ge, what exactly did Little Xiao Shishu and the others do?"

Wang Cong sighed: "Seventy-six, you've asked me seventy-six times already. Are you this idle? Have you finished packing?"

"It's quick—cargo's all neatly stacked. We'll load it onto carts tonight and leave first thing tomorrow. Cong-ge, will Little Xiao Shishu have time for dinner with us?"

Wang Cong finally sighed and pointed: "Go that way, turn right after Ping'an Inn. Wander around there—Little Xiao Shishu will surely pass by when he returns."

Wang Xiaojing leapt up and sprinted toward Ping'an Inn.

Wang Cong shook his head helplessly.

Pan Yun and the others were right near Ping'an Inn, sitting at a stall eating roasted pig's trotters and watching the crowd.

Across the street was a silk shop; its owner had withheld payment from the dyers, and the magistrate had sealed the shop. The Shopkeeper was desperately protesting: "The dyehouse owes money—seal the dyehouse! Why seal the silk shop?"

"Same owner! If you seal only the dyehouse, they'll just sneak over the wall to keep dyeing. The dyehouse's outside the city—we don't have enough men to watch it. Since the silk shop shares the same owner, it's the same! Until the workers' wages are paid, this silk shop stays sealed!"

The Shopkeeper wept—how could the daily income of this silk shop compare to the dyehouse?

This was on the main street of Quanzhou! How much rent did it earn daily?

The Shopkeeper raged at the owner—how could he be so foolish? The wages were so little, not even enough for two meals—why drag his feet?