Chapter 1301: Jinan, the Prefectural City

Everyone assumed that after Hong Chengchou left Linqing with his servants and guards, he would head straight for Northern Zhili — to report to the capital for a promotion or some such. No one expected that after traveling north for a day, he would turn back east and make for the prefectural city of Jinan. A presented scholar appointed as an assistant administration commissioner was a standard civil official, traveling everywhere by carriage or sedan chair, and by boat for long journeys. Yet this Hong Chengchou could ride a fast horse; his servants and guards all rode as well, and they could press on over long distances — something only a military man could manage.

Though he had judged that the Zhao army would make no move, Hong Chengchou still feigned a northward journey before abruptly doubling back. This maneuver confirmed that no one was following them, and only then did the party slow its pace and hurry toward the prefectural city of Jinan.

Xuzhou had marched north on the capital, forced the court into peace talks, and then held a military review at Linqing. By all appearances, Shandong was on the verge of slipping from the Great Ming's grasp, and Jinan was the provincial capital, the very heart of the province. One would have expected panic and uncertainty, yet in truth it was calm, everything proceeding as usual. On reflection, it was not so strange: the Zhao army had permitted the government offices and yamens to remain, so no one wanted to upset the still-stable order. It was just that the officials issued fewer orders, while the clerks and runners kept practical affairs running. When they encountered a truly uncertain matter, they would often go to places like the Cloud Mountain Firm to inquire.

Even before the peace talks, local affairs had been kept going by the clerks and runners. Now that the Zhao army had no intention of interfering too much, there was naturally no upheaval or unrest. The common folk, however, breathed a sigh of relief. The various harsh taxes, levies, and arbitrary apportionments meant purely to line pockets had lessened, and those in charge were now considering their own escape routes. In the current situation, even if you had the life to grab money, you had to consider whether you'd have the life to spend it.

When Hong Chengchou and his party entered Jinan, they noticed the city gates bustling with traffic. Ordinary folk coming and going was nothing unusual, but what truly caught the eye were the lines of carts and horses — clearly the household retinues of the wealthy and noble. The carts were piled high with luggage and goods, servants and matrons trudging alongside. Anyone could guess they were moving house. Listening to the gate guards' chatter, it turned out these were the families of officials in the city.

"Don't go asking. Don't you see the men from Xuzhou over by the gate?" Hong Chengchou stopped his personal attendant from acting. Besides the soldiers on guard inside and outside the gate, there were a dozen or so lean, capable men standing by, sizing everyone up.

"... Did you hear? Prince De's entire household is moving out the day after tomorrow. The Xuzhou side can't be bothered to settle scores with them — just letting them leave on their own..."

"What? Prince Heng's household only passed through the day before yesterday, and now Prince De is leaving too?"

The gate area was crowded. The idle chatter of passersby piqued Hong Chengchou's interest, and he deliberately slowed his pace to hear what they were saying. The Zhu imperial clan's sons and grandsons were scattered across the realm — princes of the blood, commandery princes, and on down to generals and lieutenants. In a sense, they were the very symbols of the Great Ming dynasty. With the princes leaving their fiefs, the common people would have a visceral sense of the dynasty's fate. Perhaps there would be nostalgia and sorrow? But their tone suggested otherwise...

"Good riddance! Those bastards made life hell for us in Jinan. Buying things without paying, barging into people's homes to molest women, killing without having to pay with their lives. I'm going home today to get a jug of wine!"

Hearing this, Hong Chengchou laughed in spite of himself. This reaction was within expectations. Hong Chengchou was widely read and had a strong memory. In his recollection, Prince De could be considered a virtuous prince. Though he had no outstanding qualities, he had never been heard of troubling or harming the people. He had not expected the locals to hold this opinion. It reminded him of when he had passed through Jining: someone there had spoken of the entire Lu Prince mansion being murdered, with not a shred of sympathy, but rather a certain satisfaction.

Hong Chengchou's smile quickly faded. He watched the carriages of the wealthy households. On every face, master and servant alike, there was a look of fear. Their wealth and status came from the Great Ming's realm. Now that Shandong was no longer Ming territory, they did not know how long their wealth could last, nor how long their status and position — all derived from the Great Ming — could endure.

Hong Chengchou had already cultivated the deep reserve of an experienced official. No matter what emotions stirred in his heart, his expression revealed nothing unusual. His personal attendants and guards also kept their composure. Traveling north from Zhejiang, after crossing the Yangtze and entering the northern part of Southern Zhili, they had expected to see something different — the grief of a nation in decline, the sorrow of the gentry and commoners, people in dire straits, soldiers running rampant. Yet all they saw was calm and prosperity. Everything was as usual.

Even in Shandong it was the same. When Hong Chengchou had gone to the capital for the examinations and later traveled to Zhejiang to take up his post, he had come and gone by boat along the Grand Canal, passing through Shandong both times. He naturally knew what Shandong was like. Compared to his native Fujian, the Zhejiang, Southern Zhili, and Northern Zhili he passed through were all poor and desolate. But this time, there was a marked improvement. Even the boatmen said that traveling through Shandong was no longer so tense — no need to worry about theft or robbery when docking, because bandits had all but vanished. Even more telling, the starving refugees and famine victims begging along the canal banks were gone. The desolate fields were being tilled again. This was unmistakably a sign of recovery.

His attendants and guards had begun to remark on it, but Hong Chengchou lost his temper, and they wisely dropped the subject. They understood why he was angry: this Shandong, poor and desolate under Ming rule, had actually begun to prosper after being seized by the Xuzhou bandits. It was truly an embarrassing thing to say.

Jinan was no different. If not for the gossip overheard at the gate and the sight of wealthy households moving away, who would realize this provincial capital of Shandong was changing hands? The city looked in every way to be under Ming rule, with no hint that the Xuzhou bandits were moving in. You could not even sense that just three days' hard ride away in Linqing, the Zhao army's grand military review had just taken place.

"This is how runners ought to be used..." Willing or not, Hong Chengchou could not help but sigh and acknowledge it.

As a local official, he naturally knew what the constables and official runners in the yamens were really like. Those on the government payroll and listed in the official registers — no matter their rank within the office — were all like great lords out on the street. Each would gather dozens or even hundreds of unofficial underlings and hangers-on, extorting money on the streets, meddling in lawsuits and disputes for profit, and descending like wolves and tigers when it came time to collect rents. Such official runners and their underlings were only good for squeezing money, taking their cuts, and paying tribute to their superiors. They were of no practical use. When a crime or dispute occurred in or out of the city, or when natural or man-made disasters struck, the gentry still had to muster able-bodied commoners to handle it.

But everywhere in the northern part of Southern Zhili and in Shandong, Hong Chengchou saw runners in groups of three or five, patrolling and observing the streets. At the first sign of trouble, they would blow a whistle or beat a gong, and patrols from all around would swarm to the spot. The runners were on the streets at all times, so they naturally had to step in and resolve matters when they arose. Some disputes, seeing an official runner present, would naturally fizzle out. With manpower constantly on the streets, there was a mobile force to deploy in emergencies.

When he first saw this, Hong Chengchou sneered inwardly, thinking: these runners, whether on the books or not, are all parasites, licensed bandits on the local scene. If they patrol the streets, they'll surely collude with the local riffraff and cause even greater harm. Their extortion and fleecing will be worse, and they'll drag your Xuzhou reputation through the mud. Let's see who you complain to then.

However, Hong Chengchou stayed two nights in Jining. On the first day, he saw a few runners on fixed street patrols. On the second day, there were new faces. Moreover, the bearing and manner of the newcomers clearly did not seem like yamen men; they had something of the toughness of a general's personal soldiers. Intrigued, Hong Chengchou sent someone to inquire. The story was no secret — everyone on the street knew it well.

The Zhao army, through entities like the Cloud Mountain Firm, approached the local yamens and demanded that the local authorities maintain normal operations, that administrative and official business not be delayed or neglected. All runners of every rank employed by the yamen were organized into groups without exception. After a reserve mobile force was set aside, the rest were all sent out to patrol the streets and carry out duties beyond the city walls. In this constant bustle, those who went their own way, tried to fish in troubled waters, or even acted with increased brazenness were all weeded out. Some were stripped of their runner status; others simply vanished. Then new men were brought in to fill the gaps.

With so many runners and such a large territory, how could the Xuzhou men be so well-informed, aware of every rustle of wind and stir of grass on the streets, with no secret hidden from them? Just how many eyes and ears had Zhao Jin planted? Everyone marveled. Day by day, nothing seemed to change, yet gradually, people noticed the streets were cleaner, getting things done was easier, and there were far fewer things to worry about.

If there was any complaint, it was simply that the silver due could not be withheld. The old multitude of levies, taxes, and arbitrary apportionments had vanished, and the runners no longer dared to casually extort or squeeze money. But the clearly itemized silver for street cleaning, fire prevention, theft prevention, and public maintenance still had to be paid. As long as you did business here with a shopfront or a stall, there was a fee to pay. Rich or poor households living in the city also had to pay a management fee. This made many curse behind closed doors: I bought my house and live here, and now I have to pay you silver just to be managed — is there any justice left in the world?

Yet these silver fees had clear rules. When they collected from you, they gave you a receipt, and they never collected a penny more. Compared to the old groundless levies, customary fees, and blatant extortion, it was far better. At the very least, you paid less. And while the collectors were the same old runners, the force backing them was the formidable Zhao army. Anyone would have to weigh the consequences of refusing. The gentry and commoners of Shandong were different from those elsewhere — they had heard and seen too much of the Xuzhou Zhao army's fearsome power, and naturally had no desire to tug on the tiger's whiskers.

"... If they had dismissed all the runners at once, the city would likely have fallen into chaos immediately. Who knows what kind of storms these official runners and local bosses could stir up? Instead, Xuzhou made them follow Xuzhou's rules. In the process, the fittest survived and the unfit were eliminated. Those who followed the rules were kept on; those who didn't were dismissed. Then they slipped their own people in to mix with them like sand in rice..."

"... This Zhao Jin's actions seem rash and thoughtless, but he handled this matter with great sophistication..."

Hong Chengchou could not help but remark to his personal attendant. But some thoughts he kept to himself, unspoken. For instance, Xuzhou seemed to care little about the civil officials and military officers in the newly occupied territories — neither recruiting them nor driving them away, simply leaving them to sink or swim on their own. Others saw this as Xuzhou's Zhao Jin not yet wanting to tear off the mask, still maintaining a vague pretense.

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