Chapter 9: Let the People Suffer First
The carriage left Hu State City’s north gate, heading north along the official road.
It was afternoon, and the autumn sun was blazing.
On both sides of the road were endless rice paddies. The ears of rice had already turned yellow, rising and falling in the wind like golden waves.
In the distance, green mountains layered upon each other, while farmhouses were scattered sparsely nearby,
creating a picturesque scene of an autumn countryside.
Shi Lang lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and pointed ahead.
"My lord, another twenty *li* and we’ll reach the lands of Lu family Village, part of Da Wen Village. We’ll head to the community granary first. The tax grain is temporarily stored there, managed by the village chief and the granary scribe. Once we arrive, we’ll first verify the amount and then use the ledgers to press the delinquent households..."
Shi Lang was already intimately familiar with this whole process, speaking with the confidence of an expert.
Jiang Mu grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze drifting out the window.
Among the ridges of the fields, farmers bent over their work. Seeing the official carriage, they all straightened up to watch, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
There was reverence, wariness, and also numbness.
"How much is the Demon-Purging Tax per household, usually?" Jiang Mu suddenly asked.
Shi Lang quickly replied:
"My lord, it’s calculated by the *mu* of land. Three *sheng* of grain are levied per *mu*. If they’re tenant farmers or poor households with no land, then it’s calculated by person. One *dou* is levied per person."
Jiang Mu calculated silently in his head.
’A *mu* of land produces about two *dan* of grain in a good year, and even less in a normal one.’
’Levying three *sheng* doesn’t sound like much, but when you add the official taxes, miscellaneous levies, corvee labor converted to silver, and meltage fees... with all these layers piled on, the burden on the common people is truly heavy.’
The carriage bumped along for a while longer before a dusty, gray-looking village appeared ahead.
Earthen walls, thatched huts, and sparse plumes of cooking smoke.
The wheels rolled over the stone bridge at the village entrance and stopped in front of the community granary.
The so-called community granary was just a few large storehouses enclosed by rammed-earth walls, with a small, flattened dirt area in front.
A gaunt-faced old man was already waiting at the entrance. Seeing the carriage, he hurried over in a trot, followed by a middle-aged scholar holding a ledger.
"This humble old man is Cheng Yuan, the village chief. I respectfully welcome you, Sir."
The old man bowed.
Shi Lang was the first to jump down from the carriage. He pointed behind him and said, "This is Master Jiang of the Demon-slaying Bureau’s Eighth Hall, here to press for the demon grain."
Upon hearing this, Cheng Yuan’s body immediately bent even lower.
"Master Jiang’s presence brings light to my humble home! It truly does! Please, come inside for some tea and rest your feet."
Jiang Mu got out of the carriage, his gaze sweeping over the community granary.
The earthen walls were mottled and peeling, revealing the wheat straw within. A large, rust-covered bronze lock hung on the wooden door.
A few burlap sacks were piled sporadically in the yard. It didn’t look like much had been collected.
Entering the simple side room next to the storehouse, Cheng Yuan quickly had someone serve tea.
"Village Chief Cheng, let’s skip the pleasantries. How is this year’s demon grain collection going?"
Shi Lang picked up his teacup, skimmed the floating foam off the top, and asked bluntly.
A bitter smile formed on Cheng Yuan’s face.
"Reporting to you, Sir, we’ve collected a little over seventy percent. It’s just... the remaining thirty percent of households are truly struggling.
There was a small flood this spring. It wasn’t serious, but it did swamp a few low-lying areas, and the harvest was affected.
Right now, the autumn grain hasn’t been harvested yet. It’s the time of year when the old stores are gone and the new crop isn’t ready. Some families really can’t spare any more grain."
"Can’t spare it?"
Shi Lang’s face darkened. He slammed his tea bowl down on the table.
"The Court’s tax grain is no child’s play! Bring me the ledger. I want to see which of these crafty peasants are refusing to pay!"
The granary scribe hurriedly presented a yellow-covered register.
Shi Lang took it and flipped through a few pages with a RUSTLE. His finger tapped on a few names. "Elder Wu, Wang Genzi... These families were delinquent last year, and they dare to delay again this year?"
Cheng Yuan spoke cautiously, trying to placate him:
"Sir, please calm your anger. Elder Wu’s family lost their ox last year, so they had to rely on manpower for the spring plowing. It’s been incredibly hard for them. As for the Wang family, that woman is raising three children all by herself..."
"Enough!"
Shi Lang cut him off with a raised hand and a cold snort.
"They’re all just crafty, evasive households. This family has it hard, that family has it hard... If everyone spins a sob story and delays payment, how is this job supposed to get done? Maybe you and I should just quit and go work for them as their beasts of burden!"
With that, he cupped his hands toward Jiang Mu and said:
"My lord, what do you think? Should we... pay a visit to these ’key households’ first?"
"Mm."
Jiang Mu was indeed unfamiliar with these procedures and methods, so for now, he let the other man handle it.
The group had just walked out of the side room when they saw four or five idlers squatting on the dirt clearing. Dressed in short jackets, they had the air of hooligans and were laughing and joking about something.
Seeing Jiang Mu and Shi Lang emerge, they quickly stood up.
The leader, a man with sharp, monkey-like features and an open jacket, trotted forward. He bowed with cupped fists, forcing an obsequious smile onto his face.
"This humble one is Zhang A’wu. Greetings to you two masters."
Shi Lang whispered to Jiang Mu:
"My lord, this man is Zhang A’wu. He’s a registered ’helper’ at the Government Office who usually runs errands and handles miscellaneous tasks for us. When it comes to collecting dues, they have their own rustic methods that are more convenient than for us Officials in uniform."
These so-called "helpers" were essentially "white gloves" or "temporary workers" attached to the Government Office.
This group had no official position or salary. They lived by "helping" the Officials extract wealth from the common people, and their methods were often even more ruthless than those of the actual Officials.
Besides Zhang A’wu and his gang of ruffians, a middle-aged man in a long blue robe stood nearby, holding an abacus.
Shi Lang made another introduction:
"This is Accountant Zhao from the ’Good Fortune Pawnshop’."
The latter hurriedly bowed to Jiang Mu.
Fearing Jiang Mu wouldn’t understand, Shi Lang took the initiative to explain:
"Some households truly don’t have grain on hand. We can also let them use valuable objects as collateral to borrow silver coins from the pawnshop to pay the tax.
Things like land deeds, house deeds, heirloom jewelry... you could say we’re doing the people a favor, leaving them a way out."
Jiang Mu frowned slightly but said nothing.
Zhang A’wu sidled up, his face full of sycophantic flattery.
"My lord, you can rest assured. We little ones often help the masters go down to the countryside to press for taxes. We know the tempers of these mud-legs best.
If you ask me, these worthless louts are like old clams on a riverbank. If you don’t whack ’em good and hard, how are they ever going to spit out a pearl?"