Chapter 84: The Final Word

Prefect Tong Huaizu glanced at Secretary Wang with a puzzled look, then tore open the envelope. The letter was brief, and Prefect Tong finished reading it quickly. After reading, he said nothing. Scholar Yang was just about to press him to handle the case when he heard Prefect Tong say with a smile, "Mister Wangshan's concern for his hometown truly sets an example for all scholars!"

After this exclamation, Prefect Tong Huaizu's expression turned solemn. He addressed Scholar Yang, "Cloud Mountain Temple is a vast establishment with many members, and unlawful acts are frequently reported to this official. Now, once again, some have colluded with kidnappers to traffic people — utterly devoid of conscience. Yang Zhongping, you are a learned and reasonable man. As a lay disciple of Cloud Mountain Temple, you should offer more reminders, lest small misdeeds accumulate into great calamity!"

Scholar Yang was stunned. Secretary Wang had merely stepped out for a moment — how had the whole matter been turned on its head? He immediately said, "Your Excellency, there is no evidence that those six masters were connected to the kidnappers. Master Yuanxin..."

"Preposterous! The confessions are complete with signatures and thumbprints — how can you say there is no evidence? Mister Wangshan calls this a righteous deed for Xuzhou City and intends to write to his old friends in the capital, asking them to petition the court for official commendation. What, do you think you see more clearly than Mister Wangshan?" Prefect Tong said, brandishing the letter.

Wang Youshan, a presented scholar and a retired censor of the Chief Surveillance Bureau — his status made him the most eminent and respected figure in Xuzhou City. With Prefect Tong invoking him to apply pressure, how could Scholar Yang dare to argue?

Yet Yang Zhongping was still unwilling to yield. Raising his voice, he said, "If Your Excellency rules this way, I fear Master Yuanxin..."

"Go back and relay Mister Wangshan's sentiments as well. The monastic world is not beyond the law. Master Yuanxin is a monk of great virtue — surely he will understand this principle."

"This..." Scholar Yang rose directly to his feet. In the past, he had played the bully, exploiting Cloud Mountain Temple's prestige to run roughshod over Xuzhou City, and even the prefect had to show him some deference. He had never expected to be rebuffed today, and in his agitation, he stood up.

Prefect Tong's expression immediately darkened. He said coldly, "Could it be that Scholar Yang still takes issue with this official's judgment? Do you imagine that a juren degree cannot be stripped away?"

These words were grave. Stripping a scholar's degree was a serious matter, usually requiring the provincial administration commissioner's level. But Yang Zhongping knew exactly what his juren status meant to him. Hearing this, his face turned deathly pale, and he dropped straight to his knees. Before he could kowtow and beg for mercy, Prefect Tong said impatiently, "Leave if you have no further business. This official has public duties to attend to."

Scholar Yang departed in trembling fear, this time escorted out only by a personal attendant; the secretary remained in the room. The moment Yang Zhongping was out the door, Prefect Tong Huaizu sneered, "Usually lawless, leaning on a bunch of monks — let him learn a lesson today."

Cloud Mountain Temple had committed many acts of bullying, forcing even the yamen to hold their noses and defer to their wishes. Prefect Tong had swallowed his anger on many occasions, and often it was this Scholar Yang who had been the public face of such matters.

"My patron, Cloud Mountain Temple has deep backing. What if..."

"There is no 'what if.' Whether it's Fengyang or Nanjing, they are all terrified of those pure-stream remonstrance officials in the capital and will avoid offending them at all costs. With Mister Wangshan taking up this matter this time, they won't dare to press further," Prefect Tong said with a smile.

After speaking, Prefect Tong looked at Secretary Wang with renewed puzzlement and asked, "Why would Mister Wangshan step forward? What does this case have to do with him?"

As a secretary, he was naturally well-informed. Secretary Wang hesitated for a moment, then said, "This student has heard that Constable Zhao's son and Mister Wangshan's son share a deep friendship. Moreover... moreover, this student has vaguely heard rumors that Mister Wangshan's son may have been involved in yesterday's incident."

Hearing this, Prefect Tong's face instantly went white. He said rapidly, "Why didn't you say so earlier? If this official had pursued the investigation as those monks wished, who knows what calamity I might have brought down upon myself."

"This student only heard it by ear and thought, how could a budding scholar do such a thing? I dared not report it..."

"Right — since Constable Zhao's son has ties with Mister Wangshan's son, he must be treated with special regard from now on. Go..."

A prefect was of the fifth rank, lower tier, while a Chief Surveillance Bureau censor was of the seventh rank, principal tier — a difference of three full ranks in the official hierarchy. Yet a prefect served a nine-year term, with a normal promotion of one rank to principal fifth grade upon completion. A censor, however, was evaluated every six years; if assigned to a provincial post, they could often become a third-rank administration commissioner. Even then, it would be considered a demotion. The disparity in their status was evident.

With Wang Youshan's letter, the case was settled conclusively. Zhao Jin had acted righteously, and the yamen would grant him official commendation. As for the six corpses of the Cloud Mountain Temple monks, the temple would be allowed to reclaim them, and the yamen would issue a formal reprimand.

In truth, with Wang Youshan's stance made clear, the constables' collusion in silencing the witnesses was no longer a crime but had become legitimate official business. The silver needed to smooth over connections was far less than expected, and the illicit spoils each man could share were considerably larger. The two hundred taels Zhao Zhentang had prepared to pay out of his own pocket were returned untouched, and he even received fifteen taels as his customary share.

What had begun as Zhao Zhentang asking everyone for a favor had turned into him helping everyone reap benefits — a result that pleased all. Naturally, they dragged him off to a tavern for a round of drinks.

No secret was ever kept within the yamen, and word of Wang Youshan's intervention soon spread to everyone. Stripping away the high-sounding surface of the matter, the essence was that Wang Youshan had stepped forward on Zhao Zhentang's behalf. Once this conclusion was drawn, everyone's attitude toward Zhao Zhentang gained a few more degrees of awe and deference.

With all these layers of connection in play, the midday drinking was very merry. Since everyone had to be on duty in the afternoon, they drank with restraint, agreeing to enjoy themselves to the fullest that evening.

Zhao Jin knew nothing of what was happening in the city. He had stayed obediently at One-Eyed Qi's house the entire time. Though intensely curious about the outside, he understood his priorities.

One-Eyed Qi had been out busy all morning and only returned at lunchtime. He reheated the leftover flatbread from the night before, then sliced some cured meat and set it to steam. Simple as it was, this was actually quite fine fare; for ordinary farming households, eating their fill was already a luxury. Flatbread and meat were likely reserved for New Year's.

After lunch, someone delivered three woven straw sacks to One-Eyed Qi's house. Each sack looked to weigh several dozen jin. One-Eyed Qi carefully carried the sacks inside one by one, and Zhao Jin went to help. Only then did he understand the purpose of the wooden rack and straw matting that had been laid out on the floor beforehand.

Straw sacks that actually needed protection from damp — what on earth was inside? After moving them, Zhao Jin noticed some white granules on his hands. He licked them and discovered it was salt.

Zhao Jin was a bit baffled. One-Eyed Qi lived alone — nearly two hundred jin of salt. How long would it take to finish that?

In the afternoon, Zhao Jin grew bored. He wandered idly around the courtyard and could hear considerable bustle outside. A small village — at this hour, everyone should have been out busy with farm work, preparing for the spring plowing, or even fleeing the spring famine. Where would such lively commotion come from?

Unable to resist his curiosity, he crouched and peered through the crack in the gate. Outside, he saw people pushing handcarts, others leading livestock, and some carrying loads on shoulder poles or their backs — all transporting those same woven straw sacks. Moreover, judging by their clothing and bearing, none of them had the impoverished, gaunt look of farmers. They all had a somewhat fierce air and carried short knives, hatchets, and the like.

One-Eyed Qi had gone out again in the afternoon and hadn't returned. Zhao Jin lay there at the gate crack, watching with great fascination. This must be what One-Eyed Qi had called "dividing the salt."

As the sun dipped westward, Zhao Zhentang came to fetch him.

Seeing his father appear, his expression calm and natural, Zhao Jin breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the matter must have been resolved.

Zhao Zhentang carried a faint smell of alcohol. He told Zhao Jin to wait a moment while he exchanged a few words with One-Eyed Qi. Soon, Zhao Zhentang and One-Eyed Qi returned together. After Zhao Jin expressed his thanks, father and son headed back to the city together.

Neither father nor son could ride a horse. Zhao Zhentang had hired a horse cart. As the two sat in the cart and Zhao Jin looked back at Qi Family Village, he could still see quite a few people going in and out.

"Dad, why aren't you wearing your constable uniform?" Zhao Jin asked casually.

In these times, chaos reigned both inside and outside the city. Traveling in a yamen runner's uniform would earn you some deference everywhere. With the countryside so lawless, Zhao Jin found it odd that his father was dressed in plain clothes.

"If I'd worn my yamen colors, it's hard to say whether I'd have made it out alive," Zhao Zhentang said with a laugh.

Seeing Zhao Jin's eyes widen in shock, Zhao Zhentang leaned back and explained, "Today happened to be the day Qi Family Village was dividing the salt. That business hates public officials most of all. If I'd walked in wearing that skin, wouldn't I have been beaten to a pulp?"

Dividing the salt? Zhao Jin heard the term again and couldn't help asking curiously, "Dad, what is 'dividing the salt'?"