Fleeing South

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Wei Changle tossed his chopsticks onto the table and sneered, "So you just stood by and watched people starve to death every year? As local officials, the people of Shanyin County rely on you for support and relief. If the county government had the power to levy taxes and the granaries had grain, how could the people starve to death in such a harsh winter?"

Jiang Yun forced an awkward smile, not daring to respond, and instead glanced at Ding Sheng for help.

Finally, Ding Sheng set down his teacup and said with a smile, "Your Honor, you must be exhausted from your journey. After dinner, you should rest early. Tomorrow, I will gather all the officials in the yamen for you to meet and take roll call."

"A new official needs to make a strong start, and I don't want to break tradition," Wei Changle said coolly. "The first fire has already been lit in the prison temple. Now it's time for the second fire. Gentlemen, the most urgent matter at hand is to provide relief to the people. Even if we can't distribute grain to every household, setting up porridge kitchens to provide daily meals shouldn't be too difficult, right?"

Jiang Yun shook his head with a bitter smile. "Your Honor, we have no grain."

"Then go and procure grain," Wei Changle said sharply. "Isn't that our responsibility?"

"Procure grain?"

Wei Changle leaned back in his chair, his gaze piercing. "The common people may have no grain, but the wealthy landowners and gentry in the city surely do. Ding Sheng, I'll trouble you to visit the homes of Shanyin's gentry tomorrow and persuade them to donate some grain to help the refugees in the slums survive this winter."

Ding Sheng was taken aback, his face showing reluctance.

Wei Changle then turned to Jiang Yun. "Jiang Yun, you're in charge of taxation. Tomorrow, go to the granary office and tell them that the county must provide relief to the refugees. We need grain from the granary, no matter what."

Jiang Yun also wore a troubled expression.

"What? Is there a problem?"

"Your Honor, actually... for the past two years, every winter, the Sanxiaolang has gathered the gentry in the city to donate grain. The three major families of Shanyin have also taken the lead in donating," Ding Sheng said cautiously. "The donated grain is used to provide porridge, but... it only lasts a few days. This year's donations have already been collected. Asking them to donate again will likely be met with refusal."

"How many people in the city are going hungry?"

"About three to four thousand," Jiang Yun quickly replied. "Most of them are refugees who fled from Yunzhou."

"Refugees?"

Jiang Yun nodded. "After Yunzhou was ceded to the Tatars, they divided the people into classes. The Tatars are naturally the first class, the Qiang and other Western tribes are the second class, the Yunzhou gentry who surrendered to the Tatars are the third class, and the rest of the Liang people are the lowest, fourth class. Tens of thousands of Yunzhou people have fallen into their hands, living in misery and suffering."

Wei Changle's expression darkened, and he clenched his right fist.

"To the Tatars, the people of Yunzhou are like livestock, their property. They won't let them escape easily," Ding Sheng sighed. "They've set up many outposts along the border, and Tatar cavalry patrol day and night. Anyone caught trying to flee south is subjected to brutal punishments—skinned alive, limbs cut off, left to bleed to death..."

"But some still manage to escape," Jiang Yun said. "These refugees have little wealth and can't travel far, so most have settled in Shanyin."

Wei Changle understood. "They're all in the western part of the city?"

"Exactly," Jiang Yun said. "Shanyin is a small city, and with so many people arriving at once, they could only be settled in the western district. That's why it's so crowded and chaotic."

"These people have no land. The court initially provided relief, but that only lasted two years," Ding Sheng lamented. "In the following years, the county did its best to gather grain, and the gentry in the city also contributed. But once the county granaries came under the control of the granary office, the yamen could no longer do anything."

Wei Changle was stunned. "You just said there are three to four thousand refugees in the city. Let's assume four thousand. An adult needs about five taels of rice a day to survive. With a mix of old and young, four thousand people would consume about two thousand pounds of rice a day. And that's just for porridge—probably less than a thousand pounds a day."

"Your Honor is right. It's about... less than ten dan of rice a day."

"How many pounds is one dan?" Wei Changle realized the measurement units of this era were different.

"One dan is about 120 pounds."

"Exactly," Wei Changle said. "With so many wealthy families in Shanyin, can't they contribute a few hundred dan? Only lasting a few days is a joke. If we can get through this winter, we can find a way to survive come spring. Ding Sheng, you said they've donated grain before. Do you know how much they actually donated?"

Ding Sheng looked embarrassed and forced a smile. "Your Honor... I truly don't know. The donated grain was sent to the granary office, and they... they have the records."

Wei Changle thought of something and asked, "You mentioned the three major families earlier. Who are they?"

"The three major families of Shanyin are the Tan, Hou, and Gan families," Ding Sheng said. "They are all wealthy clans with vast properties."

"The Hou family?" Wei Changle immediately asked. "Hou Tong...?"

Ding Sheng nodded. "Your Honor is wise. Hou Tong, the county clerk, is indeed from the Hou family, one of the three major families!"

"I see!" Wei Changle picked up his wine cup and drained it in one gulp. He said calmly, "So, the county sets up a fund to collect grain from the gentry, the three families take the lead in donating, their grain is returned to them, and the rest goes to the granary. Is that how it works?"

The two officials looked even more awkward, thinking to themselves how blunt this young magistrate was.

"What about the Five Immortals Society? What's their deal?" Wei Changle set down his cup, and Jiang Yun quickly stood to refill it.

Jiang Yun sat back down and said, "The refugees crowded into the western district. Some work to support their families, which is fine. But there are also many thieves and troublemakers among them, causing chaos for the other residents. The yamen's constables are limited in number and can't manage so many people, so we recruited some able-bodied men to help maintain order in the western district."

"The yamen recruited them?"

"Actually, they were already small gangs in the city," Jiang Yun explained. "The yamen organized them, but they don't receive official salaries, so the yamen doesn't have to pay them. They have five leaders, each with a nickname: Snake One, Rat Three, Wolf Five, Dog Six, and Pig Nine. They're all street thugs. That Tu Lao Jiu is Pig Nine."

"City foxes and village rats, calling themselves the Five Immortals? Quite bold," Wei Changle sneered.

Jiang Yun hurriedly smiled and said, "It's just a joke, Your Honor. Don't take it seriously. To be fair, these people have been quite effective. Without them, who knows what the slums would be like now. With their help, the slums have remained relatively peaceful."

"Peaceful?" Wei Changle's face turned cold. "Jiang Yun, it's been a while since you've been to the slums, hasn't it?"

Jiang Yun, sensing he had misspoken, quickly said, "But the Five Immortals Society has indeed been getting out of hand lately. Pig Nine actually dared to break into the prison—utterly reckless. Your Honor, we must have Hou Tong discipline them severely."

"Does Hou Tong manage the Five Immortals Society?"

"Not exactly," Jiang Yun said quickly. "But Hou Tong has been in his position for many years, leading the constables. Not only do the constables respect him, but even the street thugs fear him."

Wei Changle said indifferently, "You do realize that the most expensive things in the world are often free. The Five Immortals Society doesn't take salaries from the yamen but works for it. Do you really think such a good deal exists?"

"Your Honor is absolutely right," Jiang Yun said with a flattering smile. "That's why they run some shops and inns in the city, and the yamen gives them tax breaks."

Wei Changle sighed. "So they're still getting money from the yamen. What kind of shops do they run?"

"All kinds, mostly in the western district," Jiang Yun said. "Pharmacies, restaurants, silk shops, and so on."

"I'm sure there are plenty of gambling dens and brothels too," Wei Changle said with a cold snort.

He knew very well that in an environment like the slums, gambling dens and brothels were rampant. They were quick money-makers, and the Five Immortals Society would certainly be involved. No one would dare compete with them for such businesses.

The atmosphere grew awkward.

Ding Sheng deliberately coughed and stood up, cupping his hands. "Your Honor, you must be exhausted from your journey. Please rest early. Tomorrow's roll call won't be in the morning but at noon. I will gather all the yamen officials for you to meet."

"You've both worked hard," Wei Changle said with a smile. "Don't delay the matter of procuring grain."

Both men cupped their hands in acknowledgment, though their responses seemed perfunctory.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Wei Changle said, raising an eyebrow. "I heard there's a place called Guiyun Manor in the eastern part of the city. You two must know about it, right?"

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