Chapter 882: The Insightful Xin Qitao

The courses taught were neither profound nor full of great principles — just practical matters and examples. The lecturers, at a glance, were coarse and vulgar sorts, their every word and gesture tinged with a base servility.

This was simply absurd. Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants — the scholar was the most exalted, the merchant the lowliest. Yet what they studied here was the learning of serving merchants, of doing things for merchants. And then there were the clerks — mere menial drudges, barred for generations from the imperial examinations, not even counted among the four classes of scholar, farmer, artisan, and merchant — and they actually wanted us to study their learning. And this farming business — what was there to learn from the ways of poor peasants? Wasn't the whole point of studying so bitterly to avoid suffering such hardship? As for maritime shipping, that was a trade where nine out of ten died, something only lawless men did. Were we, dignified scholars, supposed to go do that?

And look at who was attending the lectures: shop assistants from merchant houses, idle runners from the yamen, even Tatar slaves from the steppes, and occasionally one could see bizarre-looking foreign devils. The Sage spoke of "education without distinction," but that did not mean teaching just anyone. There were also many children who should be in private academies, young men who should be striving for official degrees — yet here they were, listening intently. This was truly corrupting the youth, a sin against virtue and a creator of evil karma!

The height of absurdity. It seemed this Xuzhou was nothing more than the usual bandit rabble, swollen with arrogance after a stroke of luck. They knew nothing of recruiting the worthy, nothing of respecting the scholar-gentry. How could such short-sighted, violent brutes possibly last?

Look through the histories, through the various unofficial records and anecdotes, listen to the storytellers and plays — whenever anyone wanted to raise a banner of rebellion and carve out a domain, they always treated the scholarly class with the utmost reverence. Especially in the very beginning, even if a scholar without any examination degree came calling, they would rush out to greet him with their shoes on backwards, holding him up high. Only then would worthy talents from all quarters be drawn in. Which dynasty's founding was not like this? Even the Five Barbarians and the Ten—

Most of the scholars who had come full of enthusiasm had already left. Many felt the short-term training class itself was an insult. Some left after the first lecture, deeming these all base trades, and that studying them was degrading. Others stayed for a few days and then left too; raised on the classics of the sages since childhood, knowing only rote memorization, they simply could not accept these entirely different ways.

Only a very few remained — those who truly had nowhere else to go, or those who felt they had no future prospects in the official examinations.

The scholars with nowhere to go mostly came from Shandong. Never mind the crushing taxes and levies — the court's Liao conscription tax had snuffed out their last shred of loyalty. They could not hold onto their family lands, the court's grain stipends never arrived, and their wives and children were starving. In such circumstances, who had the heart to study? Feeding the family came first.

Many scholars arriving from Shandong were, by the time they reached Xuzhou, indistinguishable from refugees. Giving them a way to survive meant more than anything else.

Then there were the local scholars of Xuzhou. The culture of letters was not strong here; studying offered little path forward to begin with. It was somewhat ironic — the place in Xuzhou with the most scholarly sons was the Three Garrisons of Xuzhou. Only the garrison military households had a bit more means, and only these garrison officers were more eager to see their sons advance in officialdom. These Xuzhou scholars had witnessed with their own eyes the rise of the Zhao Camp, seen how impoverished and desolate Xuzhou had improved step by step, seen how the Zhao Camp had smashed Cloud Mountain Temple, quelled the Shandong bandit rebels, frightened off the government cavalry, marched south and north to defeat the court's armies, and seen how one by one, the numb and despairing neighbors and relatives around them had straightened their backs.

As natives of Xuzhou, they knew better than outsiders what Zhao Jin had done, what changes Xuzhou had undergone. Thus they had greater faith in Zhao Jin. What troubled the local Xuzhou scholars was that under the Zhao Camp system, there was no path of advancement for men of letters — only for those daring enough to wield blade and spear. Now this short-term training class had opened a road for everyone. Though intended for outsiders, it did not bar locals from attending.

"This approach is good. Though the classics contain great principles, how can one handle governance well without understanding practical affairs? The Han, Tang, and Song dynasties all held that one could not enter the central government without serving in the provinces. Yet our dynasty has reversed this, prizing those who enter the Grand Secretariat straight from the capital without ever leaving. A man who never steps beyond the capital gates for over twenty years becoming Chief Grand Secretary is actually celebrated as a fine tale. But unless one is a heaven-sent genius, how can someone who governs without knowing the localities possibly rule the realm? Are these truths really found in the books of the sages?"

A presented scholar would enter the Hanlin Academy, then circle around through the prestigious and sinecure posts in the capital, step by step. When his age was about right, he could enter the Grand Secretariat as a Grand Secretary. With luck, he might become Deputy Chief or Chief Grand Secretary. Over twenty-odd years, aside from being sent out as an examiner or returning home to pay respects at the ancestral graves, he never stirred from the capital. Then he would take charge of the great policies of the realm, assisting the Son of Heaven — possessing no practical experience whatsoever, not even understanding the workings of government itself.

This was no joke, but the established practice of the Great Ming. Just check the records of every principal graduate, second-ranked graduate, and third-ranked graduate through the examinations — most had precisely this kind of career.

"Never mind the central government — is it any different in the provinces? A scholar studies the Four Books and Five Classics his whole life, passes the exams, and is sent out to a post. What does he understand? Does he know the inner workings of taxes and corvée labor? Does he know the tricks of the clerks and runners under him? If he wants to get anything done, he has to rely on private secretaries and friends. After a few years, his term ends, and he dusts off his backside and leaves. But the clerks and runners in the yamen, and the local gentry — their families have been here for generations. In the end, what use is the official sent down by the court? He's just a figurehead, a signboard. The ones truly governing the local people are these clerks, runners, gentry, and local bosses."

On this point, everyone understood even better. They needed look no further than Tong Huaizu, the Prefect of Xuzhou. He only truly began to understand local governance, to grasp the hidden workings and abuses, and to know where to start, near the end of his first term. By then, no one dared treat him carelessly. But presented scholars themselves had no desire to stay too long in provincial posts. Staying on was seen as a disheartening, demoralizing affair, and to outsiders, it looked like a dead end. Tong Huaizu was an exception. By the time he stayed on and could actually manage and intervene in local affairs, everyone everywhere was already obeying only Zhao Jin's orders.

"Learn some practical affairs, understand some rules and procedures, establish more civilian clerks and runners who draw court salaries — then the court could govern as effectively as in the Han dynasty, where the Son of Heaven's decrees were heard and heeded by the common people. As it is now, no one listens to the court's rules and laws. Instead, they become tools for the corrupt below to exploit for their own gain. These taxes, corvée duties, and the Liao levy — if they were collected only at the proper rates, the people might suffer but could perhaps endure. But every level wants to get rich off it, and those at the bottom gouge even more fiercely. Everywhere, families are ruined and lives destroyed; everywhere, the people resent the court!"

These words were all spoken by the provincial graduate Xin Qitao. He actually held this short-term training class in rather high regard, which delighted Wang Zhaojing beyond measure. Every time, he would relay the words to Zhao Jin as quickly as possible.

Zhao Jin could understand this. When a person achieves something, they always hope it will be widely known, hope to hear others' assessments. If the praise comes from a peer, from someone in the same field, their genuine compliments are all the more gratifying.

"You all think more about the big picture than I do, always thinking about recruiting talent from everywhere." Zhao Jin occasionally had such rueful sighs.

Wang Zhaojing's purpose in relaying this Provincial Graduate Xin's words was simply to prove that Xin Qitao was a man of talent, and one very suited to Xuzhou — that Zhao Jin should take the initiative to recruit him.

Although this Provincial Graduate Xin's views and opinions differed from Zhao Jin's own, for a scholar with no connection to Xuzhou to possess such insight was already quite remarkable. He truly deserved the title of talent.

In fact, Zhao Jin had seen Xin Qitao in person. Wang Zhaojing led the man around Xuzhou all day, and it was only natural that Zhao Jin might happen to appear somewhere and catch a distant glimpse.

After seeing the man himself — even from afar — Zhao Jin's estimation of him rose considerably further. Because his bearing was very similar to Wang Zhaojing's. Wealthy families could easily spoil their sons, but by the same token, wealthy households had better means to cultivate their children than poor ones. This Xin Qitao was clearly the type who had not wasted his advantages.

And the similarity to Wang Zhaojing was not just in bearing — it was also because this man was truly accomplished in both civil and martial arts. According to the information gathered from Kaifeng, he was said to be peerless in both the book and the sword. By Wang Zhaojing's account, Xin Qitao's calligraphy was like silver hooks and iron strokes, extraordinarily fine — even Wang Youshan had praised it highly.

For a literary man to have superb calligraphy was nothing rare. But to say someone was accomplished in both civil and martial arts was often mere exaggeration — perhaps knowing the Five Animal Frolics was enough to be hailed as a martial arts master. Yet Xin Qitao's physique and movements made it plain to see: he had truly put in the work on martial skills. According to those who observed him, watching Xin Qitao practice the sword in his leisure time, it was genuine killing skill.

Zhao Jin could not help wondering: what exactly was the connection between calligraphy and swordsmanship? Perhaps both demanded fine control of the arm, wrist, and hand — could they have a mutually reinforcing effect?

This Xin Qitao had a steady, restrained temperament, extraordinary insight, and was accomplished in both civil and martial arts — not to mention the special significance of his status as a Great Ming provincial graduate. Recruiting such a man would be of great benefit to the Zhao Camp. There should be little doubt about that.

But Zhao Jin was in no hurry. He was still hesitating. Someone had already raised before him the example of Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang, saying that only after the Former Lord gained the Sleeping Dragon could he divide the realm into three.

Zhao Jin disliked this analogy intensely, and naturally did not heed it. The Zhao Camp, from the days when the brothers scuffled in the goods yard, had developed to this day — one could call it a leap, a miracle. But in all of this, there was no credit due to any Sleeping Dragon or Fledgling Phoenix. It had all relied on the brothers shedding blood with blade and spear, on the relentless, sleepless accounting and planning. That was what had built this. As for insight, Zhao Jin felt that among the brothers, Chen Sheng had the greatest insight. That composure and decisiveness had truly aided the Zhao Camp immeasurably. And what was this newly arrived Xin Qitao by comparison?

He could be used, and using him would bring benefits. But there was no need to place him on such a high pedestal. How much of this provincial graduate's learning and insight could actually be applied within the Zhao Camp? Even Wang Zhaojing's classical scholarship had not proven very useful.

Ever since the child was born, Xu Zhenzhen no longer wished to live inside the camp. In her words, the killing aura within the encampment was too heavy and might frighten the baby. Besides, she and Mu Shulan had work to do every day, and all those spies and scouts coming and going was troublesome as well.

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