Chapter 514: Nanjing

Nanjing was the capital established by the Great Ming's founding emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang. Situated in Jiangnan and blessed with the water transport of the Yangtze River, it was a grand city of imposing walls, uniquely distinguished. It was said to have thirteen inner city gates and eighteen outer city gates, spanning forty li across the city, with a full circuit along the walls stretching over one hundred and twenty li.

Within the city, dozens of main avenues and hundreds of lanes were all bustling with crowds and adorned with gilded towers. A river ran through the city, flowing ten li from the East Water Gate to the West Water Gate—this was the Qinhuai River, where painted boats with flutes and drums resounded day and night without cease.

Walking through the city, the main roads were lined with covered walkways on both sides, sheltering people from wind and rain. Merchants set up stalls beneath them to sell their wares, and pedestrians walking there could also escape the scorching sun. This is why so many street names in Nanjing contained the character for "corridor."

Every night, merchants and residents hung bright ox-horn lanterns high, so common folk walking about needed neither torches nor hand-lanterns. Strolling from one place to the next, there was too much for the eye to take in: brocade woven in Moling north of the city, fine velvet from the Xiaoling Guard, porcelain from Jiangxi, silks and lacquerware from Jiangnan, all kinds of exotic curios from overseas, and specialty goods from all across the land—all converged here.

With the autumn wind newly risen and the weather turning slightly chill, according to Nanjing's customs, there was a special arrangement on the Qinhuai River. People all over the city hired boats and invited eminent monks to hang Buddhist images aboard and set up scripture altars. Starting from the West Water Gate, they performed food offerings all the way to Jinxiang River. Within these ten li, the burning of jiangzhen incense created a haze like misty drizzle. The sounds of drums, cymbals, and Buddhist chants filled the ear without end. At night, exquisitely crafted lotus lanterns were lit and set afloat on the water, making it hard to tell the mortal world from the Buddha's Pure Land.

Nanjing residents wishing to honor ancestors and worship gods set up two tables at their doorways, with two all-night wind candles and a incense burner. From Dazhong Bridge to Qingliang Mountain, a single street stretching seven or eight li was lit up like a silver dragon, bright all night long, with incense smoke unceasing, unextinguished even by strong winds. All the city's ladies and gentlemen came out to burn incense and watch the festivities.

This season was also when the riverside restaurants and courtyards commanded the highest prices and did their best business. The sixteen great houses—Laibin, Chongyi, Qingjiang, Shicheng, Heming, Zuixian, Lemin, Jixian, Ouge, Gufu, Qingyan, Danfen, Meiyan, Liucui, Nanshi, and Beishi—were all packed to the brim.

Even within a single restaurant, distinctions of rank were drawn. The scattered seats on the ground floor were the cheapest, while the elegant riverside seats on the second floor were the most expensive. Refined gentlemen would lean by the windows to admire the scenery, and dissolute young rakes would spy on the ladies out for an excursion. Viewing beauties under the lamplight at night held a particularly special charm.

Although strict propriety forbade any contact between men and women, during this time, there was a certain class of women who dressed in their finest, pretending to tour the river on painted barges, but in reality were striking coquettish poses and flaunting their charms. This, too, became a sight. Ever since this practice emerged, respectable families no longer allowed their womenfolk to tour the river, restricting them to boating on Xuanwu Lake instead. Yet those young ladies of wealthy households and noble families would arrange for their household servants and seamstresses to observe here; if any fashionable new dress styles appeared, they would take the designs back to imitate. This became another amusing anecdote.

If a distinguished guest in a private dining room took a fancy to a woman on the river, he could simply send a servant to ask the restaurant owner. In less than the time it took for a stick of incense to burn, the owner could find out everything about her, leaving the guest and his party to their own devices.

Nowadays, among those by the windows, there were quite a few of these gadflies and philanderers. Even noble young masters, who had already summoned singing girls to perform and urge them to drink, still kept their eyes fixed outside, searching for someone who caught their fancy.

This atmosphere was strongest at the Beishi Tavern. As the saying went: "A towering loft a hundred spans high, the eye roams over a riot of rouge. Merry drinking past three cups, far-flung joy embraces the world's ends. Market sounds swell like spring, tree hues pale at dawn. Drinking companions see each other off, returning carriages fragrant with brocade." Coming to the Beishi Tavern, if you didn't have a woman by your side attending to you, you were considered shabby and unfit for polite company.

On the third floor, eight private rooms each emitted soft singing and delicate music, faintly vying with one another. Only one room directly facing the river was very quiet. Ordinarily, the young masters of Nanjing, who loved to trample the low and flatter the high, would have long since gone over to mock and provoke. But today, no one stirred up trouble, because the manager and waiters had long since warned them that the guest in that private room had an extraordinary status and could not be offended.

Nanjing had no shortage of powerful figures. Although the Nanjing Six Ministries were sinecures, the Nanjing Minister of War held real power, and would typically hold a position like Vice Minister or Minister in the capital. The Nanjing Garrison Eunuch was an even more prestigious post, one that only a eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial could take. As for the Nanjing Defense Commissioner, it was usually held by a noble military officer, and the position rarely went to another family—the Xu family, Dukes of Wei, held it almost hereditarily.

Besides these few major figures, there were also many important personages in every field, none of whom could be casually offended. Who knew if some commoner on the street wasn't a relative of one of those powerful men?

Holding an official post in Nanjing, especially in Yingtian Prefecture, was truly a bitter and thankless job, with few benefits and great risks. The same went for the local garrison command; even making arrests was a constrained affair. Yet there were also offices that could act freely. Apart from those few major figures who required careful handling, they didn't need to care about anyone else—and even those major figures would treat them with a degree of courtesy.

The only ones with such swagger were the Embroidered Uniform Guard. The Guard's main headquarters was in the capital, and in the various provinces, north and south, they usually only stationed a chiliarch or centurion. But Nanjing was one of the two capitals, also a primary capital of the Great Ming. The Guard commander here was typically not a chiliarch, but an Assistant Commander-in-Chief or Vice Commander-in-Chief.

There was actually another consideration behind this. The Nanjing region was teeming with powerful nobles, each a formidable figure in their own right. A Guard chiliarch might run roughshod elsewhere, but in Nanjing, he might truly be disregarded. It was necessary to station a higher-ranking officer here.

Ma Chonghao, the Embroidered Uniform Guard Assistant Commander-in-Chief of Nanjing, was a native of the capital, born into a hereditary Guard family. The highest his ancestors had ever reached was Vice-Chiliarch, but in Ma Chonghao's generation, he had hitched himself to the younger brother of Imperial Noble Consort Zheng, and suddenly soared to prominence.

At the height of Imperial Noble Consort Zheng's power, Ma Chonghao had even entertained thoughts of the Guard Commander's seat. But as the years passed, the Crown Prince's position was secured, the Prince of Fu was enfeoffed in Luoyang, the Wanli Emperor's health declined year by year, and he never appeared at court again. The officials of the bureaucratic world were all masters of reading expressions and judging the situation. The Zheng family's stock naturally fell day by day, and Ma Chonghao was no longer as glorious as before.

Fortunately, the Zheng family was still reasonably generous. Since high promotion was hopeless, they let their subordinates reap some benefits. In a place like Nanjing, even doing nothing in office would yield a rich annual income of customary fees. Ma Chonghao had done much for the Zheng family, so he was assigned here.

Nanjing was rich in spoils, but couldn't compare to the capital. Among the Guard's high ranks, it was considered a sinecure, so no one blocked Ma Chonghao's transfer.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard ran rampant across the land, and many of its members had long since adopted the bearing of wealthy merchants—faces gleaming with oil, bodies grown stout and pampered, utterly incapable of ruthless violence. The so-called "hawks and hounds" look was only found on the outside hired thugs and lowly constables, to say nothing of those at the Assistant Commander or Vice Commander level.

Across the realm, there were over a hundred nobles and military officers bearing the titles of Guard Commander, Vice Commander, and Assistant Commander. These were merely honorary titles with an attached stipend. But whether holding substantive posts or nominal ranks, the vast majority were pot-bellied and corpulent, or else genteel and excessively refined—looking like scions of great houses, like pure-stream Hanlin academicians, anything but the personal martial guards of the Son of Heaven.

Ma Chonghao was a most unique exception. In his early forties, he had no paunch; his slightly heavyset frame was not bloated, but conveyed a sense of strength. His features were very plain, his eyes long and narrow, and his left foot had a slight limp—said to be from an injury sustained while protecting a Zheng family member as they scaled a wall. But anyone who had seen him fight knew that the limp did not affect his combat prowess in the slightest. There was also a rumor that years ago, when someone threatened the family of Imperial Noble Consort Zheng, Ma Chonghao alone cut down five men, saving the Zheng family's male heir, which led to his present-day glory and wealth.

As the premier banquet venue in Nanjing, the Beishi Tavern could prepare every delicacy from land and sea, and several of its dishes were renowned throughout Jiangnan. Yet before Ma Chonghao, only a plate of broad beans and a pot of yellow wine were laid out.

The windows facing the river were thrown wide open, and the autumn wind, carrying a hint of chill, gusted in. Ma Chonghao did not feel it at all. Dressed in a single layer, his finely forged Embroidered Spring Saber rested on the table. Outside the window, the river surface was alive with the chatter of women and the strains of music, but he paid them no attention, merely tossing a broad bean into his mouth now and then, occasionally taking a sip of wine. Though that famous Han Well liquor was satisfying to drink, yellow wine wouldn't cloud his judgment.

Ma Chonghao liked staying here, not for the romantic atmosphere, but because he could hear many things. The walls of his private room had been specially treated so that conversations from both sides could be heard clearly.

The manager and waiters had long been warned not to reveal his identity, only to tell people not to disturb him, and to say nothing else. The adjacent rooms were filled with hot-blooded young men, or rather, not particularly cautious scions of wealthy families, chatting freely about everything under the sun. Who knew how much information fell into Ma Chonghao's ears.

At first, a few Guard centurions who knew the inside story wanted to watch the fun, thinking that in a place like Nanjing, trying to blackmail people with their secrets wasn't so easy—one slight misstep and you'd be crushed to pieces. But after a long while, they came to understand: this gentleman was simply listening. He just enjoyed hearing these things, and wasn't using them for anything.

Yet some things puzzled the Embroidered Uniform Guard constables in Nanjing. This Commissioner Ma was a stranger to the area, and in his early years had been nothing but a crude, rough fellow who only knew how to swing a blade. How was his knack for making money so incredible? The wealthy merchants and powerful families he targeted for interrogation never caused the slightest trouble; once caught, they obediently paid up to atone, and everyone made their fortune with ease and comfort. Of course, the lion's share went to this Commissioner Ma.

Hearing footsteps behind him, someone outside the curtain of the private room spoke in a low voice. After receiving Ma Chonghao's permission, the person entered with hurried steps and a bowed body.

Ma Chonghao picked up a broad bean, glanced back, and shook his head, saying, "If you ran into someone sharp-eyed, those official boots of yours would be a dead giveaway. And another thing, since you're wearing a surcoat over your robe, can't you stuff your waist token into a pocket? It bulges out at your waist—do you think people can't guess?"

Having several flaws pointed out by Ma Chonghao, the middle-aged fat man who entered the room smiled apologetically and nodded, saying in a low voice, "I've made a fool of myself before the Commissioner. This humble officer was in a rush this time and didn't have time to tidy up properly."

Ma Chonghao tossed the broad bean into his mouth. The fat man behind him smiled and said, "Next month's pay and provisions for all Nanjing departments have been prepared. Several brothers on duty asked me to inquire of the Commissioner: how should your share be arranged? Should it be exchanged for gold ingots or sent to the account at the trading house?"

Thanks to the two old friends "Immovable as a Mountain" and "Yuan Heng Li Zhen" for their tips. The book friend "Immovable as a Mountain" is already an Alliance Master of this book. Thank you all for your support. The monthly ticket situation is very strange; Old Bai won't get involved in that mess, and will just honestly ask for votes.