Chapter 53: Grain and Silver (Third Update Arrives)

He Cuihua had returned from outside the city just yesterday, bringing back a few wind-dried chickens and half a side of pork from her parents' home. Tonight she had just made a fine meal, but because Zhao Jin came back late from extra afternoon training, she had to reheat the food twice, and she gave Zhao Jin a thorough scolding for it.

Compared to him, Mu Shulan fared much better. When He Cuihua heard the young girl would be staying at their home for a few months, far from being surprised or hesitant, she joyfully set about arranging a room. The Zhao family's house was not small, and clearing out a room for the girl was simple enough.

Zhao Zhentang directly handed the two silver ingots to He Cuihua, instructing her, "She doesn't even have a change of clothes. Tomorrow, buy a few feet of cloth and make her a set. Get her everything she needs to be properly set up — don't shortchange her."

"You and your fine words — would I ever shortchange my own daughter-in-law?" He Cuihua grumbled, her face brimming with smiles.

Having been with the Zhao family for some time now, Mu Shulan was not the least bit shy. She ate with great relish and kept pestering Zhao Jin to chat, while the adults all watched with smiles on their faces.

They had their own matters to discuss, however. It turned out He Cuihua's trip back to her parents' home this time was to deliver silver to her younger brother. Butcher He's household was well-off and held some local influence in the village; after marrying his daughter to Zhao Zhentang, no one dared provoke them. The He family was neither poor nor greedy, had never taken advantage of the Zhao family, and they simply interacted on normal terms.

Butcher He slaughtered pigs, and the family farmland was tilled by Zhao Jin's maternal uncle, He Youfu. The land was not insubstantial, and he had five hired hands. With such an income, borrowing money should have been unnecessary, but unexpectedly this year the cash flow had broken down. Before paying taxes, he had been swindled once by a grain buyer. He sold a lot of grain but received very little silver. After paying the taxes, his funds suddenly dried up. Though they could get through the New Year, they would have no silver come spring, and by then the money for daily needs and buying seeds would be far from enough.

He Youfu was an honest man, unwilling to trouble others and very concerned with face. He didn't want anyone to know he had suffered a loss. This dragged on until a few days ago, when Zhao Jin's aunt finally went to her in-laws to weep and complain, and only then did they learn of the matter. Butcher He himself had little ready silver and could only send someone to the Zhao family for help.

"If I hadn't gone, the family would have had to sell their land," He Cuihua said, very unhappily.

"That father and brother of yours are just too proud. Opening their mouths to ask is harder than reaching the heavens. I'll go have a word with the Household Clerk — as if Xuzhou still lacks that bit of silver your family needs. What a fuss." Zhao Zhentang took a sip of wine and said, utterly unconcerned.

By now Zhao Jin also knew that the magistrate's yamen had six offices, corresponding to the Six Ministries. The Household Office was responsible for taxes and farmland within Xuzhou's jurisdiction. The Household Clerk was the scribe who managed this office. Though this minor clerk held only slightly higher status than a yamen runner, and both were considered base servile roles, the magistrate served a nine-year term and was a scholar from the imperial examinations. The actual local affairs were all handled by these minor clerks. Moreover, these posts were hereditary, with generations of a family in one place managing one matter, inevitably making them the truly powerful figures in the locality.

Fortunately, the yamen runners were all native locals of Xuzhou as well. Zhao Zhentang was a man of some standing in society; he could get people to do things for him and had the face to ask. In matters of taxation, what common folk saw as a matter of heaven and earth was, in the eyes of a Household Office clerk, something that could be wiped away with a single stroke of the brush.

Having someone inside the yamen makes everything easier, Zhao Jin reflected inwardly, listening intently. But he ended up neglecting the little girl beside him, giving her disjointed replies several times, until Mu Shulan got angry and ate her meal by herself.

"... that damned Single Whip Law, converting everything into silver. Where is a village supposed to get that much ready cash? Selling grain cheap in autumn to get silver for taxes, then buying grain dear in spring to survive the lean months — back and forth, how many households has it ruined..."

Zhao Zhentang set down his wine cup and grumbled. Zhao Zhenxing shook his head with a wry smile and said, "Big brother, what you're talking about is ancient history. Once Grand Secretary Zhang died and his whole family was condemned, that Single Whip Law was halted."

"The Single Whip Law may have stopped, but down below, aren't they still collecting whatever they want? Have they taken a single copper coin less?" Zhao Zhentang's voice rose right along with his words.

Zhao Jin was a bit stunned, wondering how a discussion about matters that didn't concern them had turned into something like a quarrel. Zhao Zhenxing shook his head. At that moment, He Cuihua stepped in to smooth things over, handing Zhao Zhentang and Zhao Zhenxing each a flatbread. She sat down and said, "Don't argue over this. Aren't you two brothers doing fine now?"

"Our father and mother endured this hardship for nearly twenty years, but they never got to enjoy any comfort with me. I... ugh, those people in the guard station are suffering so much now!" Zhao Zhentang downed another cup of wine.

He Cuihua shook her head helplessly and complained, "From now on, the topic of paying the imperial grain tax cannot be brought up in this house. Every time it is, you get like this."

Zhao Zhenxing's expression also turned somewhat gloomy, and when he spoke, his voice was rough: "Big brother, let the past stay in the past. We're living well now — that's enough."

After he said this, Zhao Zhentang leaned back heavily in his chair, let out a long breath, and laughed self-deprecatingly. "Worrying over nothing. When you've got good days to live, you shouldn't keep dwelling on the old times."

Recalling past poverty in times of wealth and glory is what makes present happiness stand out by comparison. In his previous life, after Zhao Jin had fought his way up to the middle ranks, he too had often reminisced about the early years over drinks. So he knew that although the mood now was a little heavy, it was not truly gloomy.

His father and uncle must have worked terribly hard in the past, and the deaths of his paternal grandparents were likely connected to that grueling labor. In truth, Zhao Zhentang had spoken of these things at the dinner table more than once; it was just that before, Zhao Jin had never paid attention, or had listened without understanding.

But these were just passing thoughts. What Zhao Jin was really thinking about now was that Single Whip Law. The name rang a bell, but what Zhao Jin took note of was his father Zhao Zhentang's complaint: "Selling grain cheap in autumn to get silver for taxes, then buying grain dear in spring to survive the lean months." So such a thing actually existed — there was a great opportunity to be exploited here...

Just as he was deep in thought, he felt someone poke his arm several times. He snapped back to attention and saw it was the little girl beside him, Mu Shulan, making the moves. Seeing he had finally noticed, the girl leaned in and said, "Brother Xiaojin, your family is just like mine. At mealtime, the grown-ups always talk about things you can't understand."

Mu Shulan's voice was not particularly low, and every adult at the table heard it clearly. The Zhao brothers, who had been immersed in memories of the past, were startled for a moment, then burst out laughing.

The atmosphere at the table instantly improved. He Cuihua, her face wreathed in smiles, rubbed the little girl's head and said with a laugh, "Xiao Lan is so clever."

Only then did Zhao Jin realize that the little girl had said that deliberately to lighten the mood. She really was remarkably bright. But his mind was already elsewhere.

At night, after finishing his exercises, Zhao Jin would make his own bed and go to sleep. But he also knew that before he fell asleep, He Cuihua would come in to check on him and tuck in the corners of his blanket. Though it was completely unnecessary, it was a mother's loving care for her child. Usually, Zhao Jin would bid her goodnight and then drift off to sleep.

Today, He Cuihua came a bit later. The house the Zhao family had bought had once belonged to a wealthy household, so rooms were not in short supply, but she still had to tidy things up for the little girl. Only after getting her settled over there could she come over.

"Mother, what did Father mean today when he said 'selling grain cheap in autumn to get silver for taxes, then buying grain dear in spring to survive the lean months'? How does that work?" Zhao Jin asked directly. Between parents and children, the closest of blood ties, there was nothing that couldn't be said.

Sure enough, at his question, He Cuihua merely assumed it was a youth's curiosity. She sat right down beside Zhao Jin and began to explain.

All commoners of the Great Ming had to pay the imperial grain tax and the national tax, and also bear corvée labor. This was the duty and obligation of the common people. Aside from those scholars who had earned official rank and government officials, no one was exempt — not even the military households in the guard stations, who in fact bore an even heavier burden.