Chapter 10 - 9: Let the People Suffer First
"You two esteemed gentlemen can just rest on the side. I guarantee we’ll squeeze... uh, I guarantee we’ll collect everything that’s due!"
"Just collect it normally."
Jiang Mu said flatly.
Zhang A’wu was taken aback for a moment, then looked to Shi Lang.
Shi Lang tossed the ledger of tax debtors to him, gave him a pointed look, and scolded, "What’s all the nonsense! Hurry up and lead the way. We’ll start with these families in the book!"
"Right away!"
With a loud cry, Zhang A’wu led his band of ruffians and stormed into the village.
They left a trail of chaos in their wake, with chickens flying, dogs scattering, and geese and ducks squawking as they fled.
On the way, Zhang A’wu kept sidling up next to Jiang Mu, rambling about this and that. One moment, he’d be gossiping about which woman in Lu family Village was the prettiest; the next, he’d be pointing out which forest had the most game.
He had a sharp eye and could tell at a glance that this young Lord Jiang possessed an extraordinary temperament, so he was trying to curry favor.
As he chattered on, Zhang A’wu brought up the situation in the neighboring Yan City.
"Things haven’t been quiet over in Yan City recently. I hear a bunch of mud-legs have rebelled. The bastards are crazy. Not only do they secretly worship demonic entities in their homes, but a few days ago they even set a trap and killed two Demon Slayer Envoys."
Zhang A’wu spat a thick wad of phlegm on the ground and cursed,
"These damn peasants don’t know what’s good for them. They never stop to think that if it weren’t for the sirs from the Demon-slaying Bureau fighting to the death, they’d have been snacks for Demon Fiends long ago. What’s the big deal about paying some grain? And they still dare to rebel? A pack of ungrateful wolves, the lot of them!"
Jiang Mu remained expressionless and did not reply.
His gaze swept along the roadside.
He occasionally saw a few skeletal elders sitting at the base of a wall, their eyes vacant and numb.
Or sallow-faced, emaciated children in clothes too ragged to cover them.
Before long, the group stopped before a dilapidated courtyard.
Half of the earthen wall had collapsed, the gap haphazardly plugged with branches. The two crooked wooden doors were shut tight, held by an old lock.
"Lord Jiang, this is the house. The head of the household is Elder Wu."
Zhang A’wu said, pointing at the door,
"He’s something of a notorious tough nut in the village. He dragged out last year’s spring tax payment for a whole month. It took some ’gentle persuasion’ from us brothers to finally wear him down."
Jiang Mu looked at the locked door. "Looks like no one’s home."
Zhang A’wu chuckled slyly.
"Lord Jiang, you may not know this, but these taxpayers are a cunning bunch. With all the commotion we made coming into the village, their ears are sharp. I guarantee they’re hiding inside, playing dead for us."
He gave a look to a burly, thick-waisted ruffian standing next to him.
The ruffian got the hint. He took two steps back, got a running start, and in a few swift motions, scrambled onto the low wall and neatly vaulted inside.
A loud THUD was heard from within, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
It was immediately followed by the terrified cries of children and the pleading voice of an old woman.
CLINK.
A moment later, a key was tossed over the wall.
Zhang A’wu bent down to pick it up, blew off the dust, and deftly unlocked the door. He pushed the crooked wooden doors open, then turned and bowed to Jiang Mu and Shi Lang, gesturing for them to enter.
"My lords, please enter. Mind the threshold."
Jiang Mu strode inside.
The courtyard was small, its ground pitted and uneven, littered with broken tiles and dead grass.
In one corner was a pile of chopped firewood; in another, a crude and empty chicken coop.
Facing them were three low adobe houses with tattered window paper patched up with straw mats.
According to Cheng Yuan’s ledger, this household had four people.
An old woman in her late fifties, Zhao-shi; her son, Elder Wu; and Elder Wu’s two children.
Elder Wu’s wife had passed away from illness the previous year.
In a corner of the courtyard, two children were huddled together, shivering uncontrollably.
The older was a girl of about ten, dressed in tattered clothes covered in patches. Her dull, yellow hair was a tangled mess, like weeds, and she was so thin she was just skin and bones.
Only her eyes were bright, but at this moment, they were brimming with terror.
She clutched her brother, who looked to be about four or five, protectively in her arms.
The little boy’s face was waxy and yellow, his eyes sunken. He would break into coughing fits from time to time.
Nearby, a white-haired old woman in ragged clothes was kneeling on the ground, kowtowing nonstop to the ruffian who had just vaulted the wall.
When she saw Jiang Mu and Shi Lang walk in wearing official uniforms, it was as if she had grasped a life-saving straw. She immediately turned, shuffled forward a few steps on her knees, and slammed her forehead onto the dirt ground.
"Sirs, please, be merciful... We truly have nothing left in the house. I beg you, just give us a few more days. The child is sick to death... I beg you sirs, have mercy..."
Zhang A’wu sidled up to Jiang Mu and chuckled.
"Lord Jiang, don’t let this old hag’s pitiful act fool you. I’ve seen plenty of her kind. They’re like walnuts; you have to crack them open to get what’s inside. I’m sure she’s got some money from the bottom of her chest hidden in the house, probably buried under a floor brick or something."
Just as he spoke, a ruffian who had slipped into the house at some point emerged, a smug expression on his face.
He was clutching a grimy earthenware pot, which he then violently smashed onto the ground in front of everyone.
SMASH!
The pot shattered.
A few copper plates and a small shard of silver rolled out from the dark soil within, looking particularly glaring under the sun.
Zhang A’wu declared triumphantly,
"Lord Jiang, see? What did I tell you? It’s like they say, a thief never leaves empty-handed... oh, no, I mean, the long arm of the law reaches everywhere!"
The moment the kneeling old woman saw the silver, it was as if her spine had been yanked out. Yet, at the same time, she seemed to summon a final burst of strength, lunging forward to grab it, only to be kicked away by one of the ruffians.
Ignoring the pain, the old woman lay sprawled on the ground and wailed,
"That’s his life-saving money! That was the money for my grandson’s medicine!"
"Sirs, I’m begging you! That’s the boy’s life!"
"If you take it, my grandson is going to die!"
As if frightened by the scene, the little boy in the girl’s arms began to cough violently, his face turning beet red as though he were trying to hack up his very lungs.