Chapter 31#

Governing an Era (4)#

Le Wuya had anticipated many developments in the capital, so he wasn’t anxious.

Since there was no word yet from Tonglu, he decided to focus first on his own patch of land.

For various matters to be implemented smoothly, he needed the support of the village elders and village heads.

Nan’ting County had ten villages, each with 110 households. From each village, two respected village elders were selected, along with a few village heads, forming a small self-governing community.

Routine matters like marriages, brawls, and land disputes fell under the village elders’ jurisdiction. Only cases of robbery, murder, or irreconcilable neighborhood conflicts were reported to the yamen.

These “village elders” weren’t necessarily old; anyone whose words could command respect, regardless of age, could serve.

In essence, the village elders were the local landowners and wealthy men of Nan’ting County.

They were deeply rooted in Nan’ting, thriving like a lush tree, and were as thick as thieves with Assistant Magistrate Sun—an impenetrable clique.

Previously, Wenren Yue had repeatedly called meetings with the village elders, but Assistant Magistrate Sun deliberately held onto this relationship, unwilling to let Wenren Yue succeed in his work.

Thus, the village elders either asked for leave, or agreed verbally but did nothing once they returned home, all while gossiping behind Wenren Yue’s back about how his policies didn’t work, how he lacked popularity, and how he couldn’t measure up to the previous magistrate.

And these “rumors” always managed to spread.

Within half a year, Wenren Yue had become the well-known pushover of the entire region.

Fortunately, after Le Wuya took over, he fought a decisive battle that turned the tide.

After that night trial, those village elders felt as if they’d been hit with a club; without discussion, they all became obedient.

So when Le Wuya summoned them this time, their “family problems” had vanished, their “chronic ailments” were cured without medicine, and even those with minor colds came coughing through the snow.

It had snowed heavily the day before. The village elders braved the wind and snow to attend—young, middle-aged, and old—crowding into a room.

The room was warm with charcoal, the tea stove hissing as steam pushed the lid aside, the aroma of tea rolling forth, refreshing the mind.

Yet few were laughing or talking. Each carried their own worries.

Once everyone had arrived, Le Wuya made his entrance, last to appear.

He greeted them with a spring-like smile: “This tea is quite good. I got it as a reward from the Prefect. Everyone, please have a taste.”

The stiff atmosphere in the hall vanished, replaced by endless praise.

In this harmonious mood, Le Wuya slowly looked around the room and said in a gentle, cordial tone, “There are a few new faces here.”

Everyone wore a smile, but those who had repeatedly made excuses to avoid him inevitably had stiff expressions.

Just as their hearts began to rise to their throats, Le Wuya said, “No matter. I’m not good with faces. We haven’t had many chances to meet, so I haven’t matched names to faces yet. There’s plenty of time; no need to rush.”

At this, several who had frequently claimed illness breathed a sigh of relief.

True or false, the magistrate had said his piece—he likely wouldn’t hold a grudge over their previous slights.

This time, Le Wuya had summoned them for two main tasks.

First, since the former village elder, Squire Chen, was now in prison awaiting death, a replacement was needed.

Second, assigning tasks.

The first task was simple.

Each village had two village elders. The other elder, a cloth merchant named Zhu Changrong, could handle routine matters and oversee the election of the new village elder, submitting the result to the yamen for review.

Shopkeeper Zhu expressed endless gratitude, spouting a stream of flattery.

Since he was willing to talk, Le Wuya listened with a smile until Zhu ran out of words and breath, then gestured for him to sit.

“Two days ago, the imperial vermilion instructions came down,” Le Wuya said, taking a hot sip of tea in a conversational tone. “Chen Yuanwei’s sentence has been changed to lingchi.”

At the word “lingchi,” the faces of the assembled village elders froze.

Le Wuya knew the emperor’s temperament well.

He cared most about his reputation among the scholar-officials. When encountering cases that allowed him to display his “care for the gentry,” he was overjoyed.

He never started with the death penalty and certainly wouldn’t let anyone die comfortably.

By only imposing beheading, Le Wuya had deliberately left room for the emperor to act.

First, it prevented Le Wuya from appearing too cruel.

Second, it made full use of Chen Yuanwei as a tool.

For instance, to scare these disobedient village elders.

Le Wuya exhaled: “What a pity. Chen Yuanwei made a wrong choice in a moment of poor judgment, and now it’s hard to turn back.”

The hall was silent for a long time before hesitant murmurs of agreement began to stir.

A new official always starts with three blazing fires. Wenren Yue couldn’t light them, so Le Wuya lit them himself, burning the assembled village elders until they dripped with sweat.

Le Wuya planned to strike while the iron was hot and tackle three major tasks.

He had been refining his ideas over the past days.

For some matters, he no longer intended to pay.

For example, building latrines—he could have the village elders undertake the construction. The government would provide the land and blueprints, with separate facilities for men and women, waiving land fees. Each latrine would collect a daily tax of five wen, paying just over a thousand wen per year to the yamen.

The waste would be collected daily and sold in bulk to farmers.

Even if every household raised pigs, they couldn’t produce enough fertilizer for their fields. Landlords typically had to hire people to collect manure for fertilization.

This method saved labor and money on fertilizer.

Although Nan’ting County itself had little farmland, the fertilizer could be sold in loads to neighboring counties—a decent source of income.

Others might consider dealing with waste beneath their dignity, but Le Wuya didn’t see it that way.

Making money was never shameful.

Moreover, clean streets benefited the people, the village elders saved money, and everyone gained both dignity and profit. Why wouldn’t they agree?

The village elders mulled it over and found it indeed profitable.

They naturally approved.

Le Wuya had just finished explaining this and was about to move to the second item when the former Wenren Yue, now Ming Xiangzhao, entered at the right moment, holding a letter: “Magistrate, a letter from the capital.”

He didn’t need to say more. Just the words “the capital” were enough to spark endless speculation.

Le Wuya let out an “oh” and stood up. He looked around, then warmly beckoned to Assistant Magistrate Sun: “Assistant Magistrate Sun, I need to reply to this letter. You can take over from here.”

Assistant Magistrate Sun was caught off guard: “Me?”

Le Wuya nodded matter-of-factly: “Yes, about the dam project we discussed.”

Assistant Magistrate Sun: “…”

Le Wuya flicked his sleeves and walked off cheerfully, leaving Assistant Magistrate Sun seething with resentment.

Assistant Magistrate Sun cursed Wenren Yue’s ancestors in his heart.

So the magistrate got to handle the profitable stuff, while he had to deliver the bad news?

Assistant Magistrate Sun’s eyes darted to Clerk Luo.

He knew this man had recently gained the magistrate’s favor.

He didn’t know what kind of spell Wenren Yue had cast, but Clerk Luo had shed his previous neutral stance and become almost a loyalist to Wenren Yue.

If he said one wrong word and it reached Wenren Yue’s ears, things would not go well for him.

Assistant Magistrate Sun almost ground his molars as he relayed the magistrate’s plan.

In short, each village was responsible for building dams, and the magistrate had already drawn up diagrams. The dams had to be built exactly to the plans, with no cutting corners. If they used shoddy materials, the village elders and village heads would be held accountable.

At this, the smiles on the village elders’ faces faded considerably.

Someone asked, “Assistant Magistrate Sun, is the government not contributing any money?”

Assistant Magistrate Sun replied, “Some places need two or three dams. The magistrate said he’d provide some subsidies. As for the bulk, we’ll each have to find our own means.”

Building dams wasn’t too difficult. They had plenty of labor; they just needed to pay for materials.

But since it offered them no benefit, they were unwilling.

Someone tentatively spoke up: “Assistant Magistrate Sun, could you talk to the magistrate? I think we have enough water. This project would waste labor and money.”

Once someone started, others chimed in: “It’s hard to work in winter; it’s too cold. Tell the magistrate to postpone it.” If they dragged it out, maybe he’d forget.

Assistant Magistrate Sun certainly wouldn’t take the lead on this before the magistrate, but he had to make a show of effort: “Alright, I’ll try.”

Just then, Le Wuya returned.

“Where were we?” Le Wuya’s first words after sitting down were, “Was someone saying this project wastes labor and money, and we should postpone it?”

Silence fell.

Everyone swallowed hard, wondering if the young magistrate had developed clairvoyance.

Le Wuya stretched his legs and leaned back in his chair, adopting a relaxed, elegant posture: “Speak up, don’t be shy.”

Seeing no one respond, Le Wuya directly called on Assistant Magistrate Sun: “Assistant Magistrate Sun, no one asked you to plead their case, did they? If there’s nothing to say here, there’s no need to say it privately.”

Under the gaze of over a dozen pairs of eyes, Assistant Magistrate Sun had no choice but to steel himself: “Magistrate, the tax collection just ended. Let us rest and recover for a while.”

Le Wuya looked around: “Is that what you all think?”

Among the village elders, more than half indeed thought building dams was unnecessary.

But seeing opposition, they kept quiet.

Since delivering the letter, Ming Xiangzhao had been accompanying Le Wuya everywhere, and now stood behind him.

…If he were in this situation, his heart would be pounding.

But seeing them sipping tea and ignoring him, Le Wuya didn’t get angry. He simply looked at each of them in turn.

Ming Xiangzhao imitated him, also looking at them one by one.

Observing calmly, he was surprised to find that some were willing to meet Le Wuya’s eyes, while others focused intently on their tea, avoiding any eye contact.

It seemed… the former might be easier to win over?

Le Wuya, while guiding Ming Xiangzhao behind him, leisurely selected a target to strike.

Soon, he made his choice.

“Shopkeeper Zhu, are you willing to build the dam?”

Shopkeeper Zhu was startled.

Previously, he and Squire Chen had co-managed a village, with Chen always calling the shots. As a village elder, he was as good as useless.

Now that Squire Chen had fallen, and the magistrate was willing to promote and use him, even entrusting him with selecting the next village elder, he was more than eager to demonstrate his worth.

Since his position was still shaky, it was safest to cling to the magistrate’s coattails!

Steadying himself, he cupped his hands: “Magistrate, I have no problem.”

“Good.” Le Wuya nodded slightly with approval. “If you’re willing, I have an important task for you.”

Shopkeeper Zhu’s eyes lit up: “I await your orders!”

Le Wuya said, “The county recently has plans for land reclamation. There are 200 mu of abandoned walnut groves on the southern hill, and I’ve been worrying about who to tend to them. Stay after the meeting, and we’ll play a game of chess.”

The other village elders had initially despised Zhu as a weathervane, currying favor with the magistrate. Who would have thought the magistrate would actually give him a real reward!

Those 200 mu of ruined walnut groves had been coveted by many.

The previous magistrate had lost face over planting walnuts and had held onto those 200 mu, refusing to give them to anyone.

The new magistrate was clearly different.

As long as you followed him, he was generous and quick to reward!

Those who missed out on this windfall couldn’t hide their resentment.

Many glared at the two village elders who had voiced opposition.

Standing behind Le Wuya, Ming Xiangzhao noted where their gazes fell and understood a little more.

Shopkeeper Zhu was nearly dizzy from the unexpected fortune. He stood up, beaming: “Thank you, Magistrate!”

“I have many plans for planting—various new techniques, flowers, and grasses.” Le Wuya rested his chin on his hand. “Can you handle it?”

Shopkeeper Zhu knew that while he was decent at dyeing and selling cloth, suddenly switching to farming would be difficult.

Besides, his appetite wasn’t that big. If he swallowed all 200 mu at once, he wouldn’t be able to show his face in Nan’ting County.

He had to take the gold ingot but leave some edges for others to nibble.

So he reported, “Magistrate, I come from a cloth-trading background. I’m not exactly skilled in farming. I’ll need to rely on you and my colleagues for help.”

Once Shopkeeper Zhu opened that door, the other village elders rushed to chime in: “Magistrate, I have enough manpower!”

“My family has three or four gardeners; their skills are passable!”

That was 200 mu of land!

Even if they didn’t know what the magistrate intended to do or whether it would succeed, they had to get a share of the profits first!

Le Wuya waved a hand lazily: “Enough. I can see you’re all showing off your talents. Don’t just talk big. Once the dams are built, I’ll inspect them and take a look at your people. Don’t be all boast now and send me useless workers!”

The village elders now understood that to get the magistrate’s sweet rewards, they had to endure this beating first.

But they also saw that following the magistrate could bring benefits.

If the magistrate really offered carrots, they’d be willing to be donkeys.

After sending off these local bigwigs, Le Wuya played a game of chess with Shopkeeper Zhu, thoroughly trouncing him. He also explained his plans for developing walnut carving and decorative walnuts.

Shopkeeper Zhu was in the cloth business; he didn’t understand farming, but he likely knew traveling craftsmen.

As for other matters—like growing flowers or tea—they weren’t relevant to him, so Le Wuya didn’t elaborate.

Le Wuya asked, “When you go back, if other village elders ask, what will you say?”

Shopkeeper Zhu thought for a moment and understood the magistrate’s intention.

The magistrate wanted him to keep things vague for now, to make the carrot more enticing.

Everything would wait until they finished building the dams.

So he smiled and replied, “The magistrate’s chess skills are unparalleled. I am no match.”

Le Wuya laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, making the already giddy Shopkeeper Zhu grin even wider.

This lesson was taught for one person alone.

After Shopkeeper Zhu floated away with a delighted face, Le Wuya pulled his new student Ming Xiangzhao close: “Did you understand?”

Ming Xiangzhao nodded obediently: “I understand. Win over one group, divide another, lure them with profit, and things can be done.”

Le Wuya was satisfied and wanted to pat the back of his head, but Ming Xiangzhao was too tall, so Le Wuya had to stand on tiptoe: “You’re teachable.”

Ming Xiangzhao, whose head was pushed down, asked, “But feeding meat to tigers—how can that last?”

Le Wuya laughed heartily: “Follow me; there’s plenty of meat to eat!”

He pulled Ming Xiangzhao along: “Come on, treat me to some steamed pork belly!”

Ming Xiangzhao, dragged out the door, only then realized he was the one treating.

He said honestly, “My wages haven’t been paid yet.”

Le Wuya shook the pouch at his waist: “Isn’t this your money?”

As the two tussled at the yamen gate, a flower seller at the diagonal corner across the street lowered his gaze.

That gaze was faint, almost unnoticeable, yet it followed the figure’s smile and form relentlessly.

The way he walked, the way he looked at people—it was indeed like him.

The two spies had painted his likeness quite vividly.

A little girl ran up to him, pointing at the Diewu blossoms—a specialty of the Jing tribe—in his carrying pole: “Flowers! Flowers! Mama, flowers!”

Le Wuya turned at the sound. He saw a flower seller in a bamboo hat looking at the flowers with the little girl, most of his face obscured, only his chin visible, his lips curved in a warm, brilliant smile.

Ming Xiangzhao followed his gaze: “Do you want flowers?”

Le Wuya: “Yes.”

So Ming Xiangzhao went over.

The flower seller broke off a small branch and tucked it into the little girl’s hair.

The mother and child thanked him and left.

He looked up and saw Ming Xiangzhao.

Ming Xiangzhao: “Excuse me, I’d like ten stems of Wudie blossoms.”

Wudie was the earliest-blooming flower of the Jing tribe, named for its resemblance to butterflies, though it bloomed before butterflies appeared.

The flower seller asked, “You know this flower?”

Ming Xiangzhao observed the flower seller’s graceful bearing, which suggested a young man. So when the flower seller spoke, Ming Xiangzhao was startled.

His voice was low, but not the steady, calm kind of low; instead, it carried a hint of cool pride.

Ming Xiangzhao bent to pick the flowers: “Yes, I know it.”

When he was a child, his father had spent a string of cash to buy a few flower branches and brought them home joyfully, saying these were his father’s favorite flowers as a child.

In Jiangnan, these flowers were called “Emei” because their petals were as delicate as a woman’s slender eyebrows.

“Wudie” was the Jing tribe’s common name for the flower.

But Ming Xiangzhao didn’t comment further. He just silently selected the flowers.

The flower seller: “Are you from the Jing tribe?”

Ming Xiangzhao: “No.”

The flower seller: “Choosing flowers… for him?”

Ming Xiangzhao followed his gaze and saw Le Wuya standing by a stall, idly studying a rattle drum.

The flower seller suddenly asked, “What is your relationship with him?”

Ming Xiangzhao frowned.

He found the question rude.

But it was his nature not to be rude even when others were. So he answered, “He is my friend.”

“Then these flowers are not suitable,” the flower seller said. “You know the flower, but do you know its meaning?”

Seeing Ming Xiangzhao’s confusion, the flower seller said, “Wudie blossoms bloom before all other flowers, before the butterflies come. A lover, too impatient to wait, picks this flower to give to his beloved.”

Ming Xiangzhao was startled, a blush spreading across his face.

…That was indeed unsuitable.

He thought to himself: Brother Gu wants these flowers. If I go back empty-handed, he’ll make a fuss.

He said, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take these. How much?”

The flower seller, through his woven bamboo hat, stared at him for a long moment, then uttered three words: “No charge.”

Ming Xiangzhao: “?”

Then the flower seller added, “The two of you are not a good match.”

Ming Xiangzhao: “…?”

He was quite taken aback by the man’s rudeness.

After a moment, Ming Xiangzhao counted out three copper coins and stood up.

Their shadows overlapped and pressed against each other on the wintry sunlit street, as if engaged in a silent struggle.

He offered a cordial smile: “That’s none of your business, is it? And who are you to him?”