Chapter 1009: Unadorned

Zhao Jin said with a smile, "Don't keep thinking about these patrolmen the way official runners handle things. My family comes from constable stock — that line of work is hereditary, passed from grandfather to father, father to son, generation after generation. Our patrolmen aren't like that. This isn't some menial post. Do well and you can be promoted — sent to the farming estates, assigned to the trading companies, or brought into the various squads and teams of the household troops. Do poorly and you're dismissed and punished on the spot. With rewards and penalties like these, we can keep them in line, can't we?"

"We can keep them in line. Put that way, patrolmen aren't much different from the militia or household troops. At a time when morale is surging like this, you can get everyone from top to bottom united and giving their all." Ma Chonghao nodded.

"As for the detailed rules and regulations for the patrolmen, I've only given you the broad strokes. You spent over twenty years in the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and Li Dajin has served just as long in the army and the yamen. The two of you must have your own insights on the patrolmen. They've already set up a patrol force over in Qingjiangpu, so they'll have experience to share as well. What I've said isn't final. You need to bring your own ideas forward, and then we'll set the rules. And those rules won't be set in stone — if something doesn't fit, we change it. That's the only way to get things done right." Zhao Jin spoke at length with ease.

When Zhao Jin finished, Ma Chonghao furrowed his brow in thought, then rose and said with gravity, "My lord, I'm not trying to flatter you, but if the grandees at court and in the provincial offices could work with the same method and mindset you have, how could the present situation have ever come to this?"

Hearing this sentiment, Zhao Jin laughed and said, "No need for flattery. We don't go in for that sort of thing here in the Zhao Camp."

"Big Brother, Master Ma wasn't flattering. Your younger brother feels the same way." Wang Zhaojing added from the side. Zhao Jin had thought it was a joke, but Wang Zhaojing's expression was entirely serious.

Zhao Jin shook his head and said, as if offhand, "One more thing. These patrolmen are the hands and feet of the farming, trade, crafts, and foreign-affairs departments. The work within their own lines of business, they handle themselves. But escort and transport duties, conflicts and disputes with local authorities, internal investigations and prosecutions — these are matters for the Internal Guard and the patrolmen. Do you understand?"

At these words, Ma Chonghao, Liu Yong, and Wang Zhaojing exchanged glances. Then Ma Chonghao rose and said solemnly, "Rest assured, my lord. Your subordinate understands."

"The newly built estates in Shandong are all garrisoned by household troops and militia. But the ones around Suzhou, the ones on the east shore of Luoma Lake, and the local ones here in Xuzhou and Pizhou — the tenants on those estates are all our own people. There's no need to keep household troops and militia standing guard in force. Keeping the peace in those places should also be the patrolmen's job." Zhao Jin added.

Again they exchanged glances. Though some things were left unsaid, everyone understood where this arrangement was pointing. Right now, inside the Cloud Mountain Trading Company, the estates, and the various workshops and factories, each had its own organized guards. These guards were armed forces held in the hands of the managers at every level. Many matters were simply handled in-house. Acting on expediency might be convenient at times, but the higher-ups in the Zhao Camp did not wish to see this.

Ma Chonghao sat in silence for a moment, then rose solemnly and said, "My lord, your subordinate must once more be so bold. The patrol force already numbers in the thousands. In the future, it will oversee public order and civil affairs across all territories — an enormous responsibility. Your subordinate and Li Dajin cannot shoulder such a heavy charge. I hope you, my lord, or one of the other masters, will take the lead."

This patrolman office would have to deal with every department and faction, and it carried all manner of responsibilities. Should any real disputes or conflicts arise — with the household troops, to say nothing of the farming, trade, crafts, and even foreign-affairs departments — the men in charge of those all outranked Ma Chonghao and Li Dajin. If orders came down from above like that, how was anything supposed to get done?

When Ma Chonghao spoke up like this, Zhao Jin nodded approvingly and praised him, "You're the only one who could think through these intricacies. We've never been through the official world, so there are bound to be oversights on this front."

With that, Zhao Jin looked to Liu Yong and Wang Zhaojing and said, "The patrolmen will be placed under the jurisdiction of the Internal Guard. Let Xiaoyong here be the one to back you up. If you need any negotiations or deployments, you can also come to Zhaojing."

Everyone knew that today's discussion was only a beginning. Spreading out and putting into operation the patrolman system Zhao Jin had described — no one knew how much effort that would take. Wang Zhaojing and Liu Yong looked solemn. Ma Chonghao, for his part, showed some excitement. In his view, this patrolman plan swept away all the abuses of the official runners and unofficial aides in one stroke. What's more, it consolidated the functions of clerks and runners, even the functions of the gentry and village elders, and perhaps even the functions of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot, all into one. The plan was extraordinary. What it would ultimately become — Ma Chonghao found himself very eager to see.

When lunchtime came, Zhao Jin made a point of keeping Ma Chonghao to eat. Apart from his companions and close confidants, Zhao Jin rarely asked anyone to stay for a meal. The act of keeping Ma Chonghao itself spoke volumes about the importance he placed on him. Even Wang Zhaojing and Liu Yong's attitude toward Ma Chonghao rose considerably. Ma Chonghao, however, remained quite composed. In his former position, he had dealt with the emperor himself more than once or twice — this occasion was hardly enough to make him overwhelmed by favor.

Still, when they sat down to eat, Ma Chonghao was somewhat surprised. Four people at the table, six dishes and a soup. There was pork and mutton. The fish was a catch from the Yellow River. The rest were vegetables, with a few kinds of pickled vegetables as well. The staples were flatbread and rice. The bowls and plates were porcelain — very ordinary, coarse porcelain, the sort of ware a middling household would use. And there was no one to serve the rice or arrange the dishes; everyone helped themselves.

There was pork, mutton, and fish — and not the kind of perfunctory gesture where you get a few thin slices, but honest, hefty chunks of braised meat. By the standards of the world, this was quite a lavish spread. After a few bites, while it couldn't be called rare delicacy, it was clearly prepared with care. The rice and flatbread were both fine grain. Yet Ma Chonghao had never imagined that Zhao Jin and the others normally ate like this. And at the table, no one stood on ceremony — except that when Liu Yong tried to serve Zhao Jin rice, he was stopped. Everyone helped themselves, and then dug in with hearty appetites.

From the moment they'd met until now, Ma Chonghao had always been calm and unflappable. Yet at this moment, he found himself staring blankly, rice bowl in hand, watching Zhao Jin, Wang Zhaojing, and Liu Yong eat their rice and dishes in great mouthfuls, all with evident relish. Nor did it seem like any act put on for show — everything was utterly routine and commonplace. Only after Zhao Jin had put away a bowl of rice did he notice Ma Chonghao's astonishment and ask, "Is the food not to your taste?"

"Your subordinate can eat it just fine. I simply never imagined that you, my lord, and the masters normally eat this." Ma Chonghao answered with a rueful smile. As Zhao Jin served himself more rice, he asked, "Isn't it perfectly good?"

Ma Chonghao was stunned again, because Zhao Jin had said this so matter-of-factly, as if it were only natural. Ma Chonghao hurriedly nodded and said with a smile, "It's very good. Your subordinate will dig in now too."

He began eating in large mouthfuls, and then sampled all six dishes on the table, just to confirm there was nothing out of the ordinary — no cabbage braised in ham and superior stock, no hind leg meat from a suckling pig less than a hundred days old. It was all just home-style cooking. Ma Chonghao sighed inwardly. Having experienced so much in both the capital and Nanjing, he could fairly say he'd seen and tasted it all. Lavishness and wealth held little novelty for him anymore. The meal before him was something even a full-duty hundred-man commander in the Embroidered Uniform Guard wouldn't think much of — and that was in the capital. Here in Nanjing, a chief flag officer's daily fare was better than this, to say nothing of the high officials, ennobled nobles, wealthy merchants, and gentry. Not to mention others, but in the household of the Duke of Wei, the Xu family, even the third-class servants ate better than this.

This, in fact, was one of the oft-told tales in the city of Nanjing. The Duchess of Wei was fond of a certain dried vegetable dish. Only, this dried vegetable required ham and dried abalone to flavor the broth. Once prepared, the ham pieces, the rehydrated abalone, and the mature hen were all discarded, and only the dried vegetable was presented. Thus, that ham, dried abalone, and hen became the servants' food to go with their rice. Why was it said to be third-class fare? Because the first- and second-class servants and maids in the Duke of Wei's mansion all had their own dedicated kitchens and looked down on such cast-offs.

At the time, Ma Chonghao had just arrived in Nanjing and was quite curious about this. He made a point of asking around, and found that this story — one even people in the capital had heard — was true. What's more, people were unimpressed by it, because the luxuries enjoyed by any number of great and established houses in Jiangnan were far more exquisite than this. They all said the Duchess of Wei had never seen much of the world.

Setting everything else aside, that dried abalone and ham were far more expensive than the dishes on this table. And if you factored in the exquisitely decorated, astronomically priced tableware, there was simply no comparison. For winter family banquets, the Duke of Wei's household used silver plates set upon silver boxes — inside the boxes, strong liquor burned to keep the dishes warm. Not to mention cups of rhinoceros horn and precious stones, or bowls and dishes of white jade. The awe-inspiring Zhao Tianwang, Chief Zhao, actually ate and lived like this, day in and day out? Was the Zhao Camp short of money? Were they not as wealthy as the Duke of Wei?

On this point, Ma Chonghao knew the score. Back when he had designs on Xuzhou, he had investigated thoroughly. Profit was everywhere — mountains of gold and seas of silver, everywhere you looked. Compared to Zhao Jin, perhaps only a few of the very top houses in Jiangnan could match him, and by now, probably not even they could.

The Duke of Wei's Xu family was among the most preeminent noble houses under heaven. Their manner of living was naturally extraordinary. Their servants and maids ate and lived better than those of ordinary wealthy families. Yet Ma Chonghao also knew that many hundred-man commanders in the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard, and many wealthy households in Jiangnan, all ate and lived better than Zhao Jin and his few companions.

Take the current residences of Zhao Jin and his companions — in the Xuzhou region, they were merely the dwellings of an upper-middling household, tidy at best. Once you passed Qingjiangpu and headed south, they were just the homes of ordinary folk.

Such wealth, and yet only such a manner of living. Ma Chonghao also knew many examples from history ancient and modern. This unadorned simplicity alone was enough to show that their future was boundless. His mind wandered far, and fearing he'd been rude, he stopped after just one bowl of rice. As a result, Zhao Jin even nagged him a little: "Old Ma, we tax our minds and bodies every day. We have to rely on eating and drinking our fill to replenish ourselves. Don't you listen to any of that twisted talk about eating less to preserve your health — for men like us, that'll only damage the body."

"Your subordinate understands. Many thanks, my lord." Ma Chonghao answered with a smile. But after that one line, he couldn't help laughing. He covered his mouth with his hand but still couldn't stop, leaving Zhao Jin and the other two baffled. Then they all went back to adding more rice. Discussing strategy, drilling, and practicing martial arts — everyone was at it nonstop every day. The physical exertion was enormous. Without eating heavily, there was truly no way to sustain it.

I originally had a plan for these few days, but after some rough adjustments, I've decided to stay home and write. Since that's the case, I can't let the double monthly tickets starting on the 28th slip by either.

Same old rule: for every hundred monthly tickets, one bonus chapter (counting from when the double monthly tickets start on the 28th). All other promises still stand. I want to test myself, to see if I can keep these bonus chapters going until the double ticket period ends. What others can get so easily, I can only get by fighting for it. Fighting may not mean I'll get it, but at least I'll have fought!

Thank you, everyone.