Han Ji

Chapter 141 A Complete New Look

In the back garden of the prefect's mansion, Su Gu was brewing wine in the pavilion. Seeing Liu Bei arrive, he smiled and said, "Xuande, try this wine; I brewed it myself."

The two sat facing each other. The wine was rice wine, sweet, but with a strong aftereffect.

"I heard," Su Gu took a sip of wine, "that you've turned Hanzhong upside down in the past month."

What needs to be overturned will eventually be overturned.

"Good job turning it over." Su stubbornly held his cup. "If you don't turn it over, those festering sores will stay rotting underneath forever. Turning it over will hurt for a while, but it will heal."

"Liu Xuande, Liu Xuande, I lost to you, and it's not unjust."

The two drank together until late at night.

The snow fell again, fine and light, settling on the eaves of the pavilion and accumulating into a thin layer.

It's like covering the old year with a new blanket.

It's like laying out a blank sheet of paper for the New Year.

In the first month of the fourth year of Zhongping, there were already ruts on the official road outside Nanzheng City.

They were all farmers who had come from the surrounding countryside. They set off before dawn, carrying sacks and shoulder poles, and gathered at the Household Department in the east of the city. The sacks contained last year's surplus grain, and the shoulder poles contained the grain they needed for planting in the spring. According to the newly promulgated "Edict to Encourage Farmers," the prefectural government would lend money to farmers who lacked grain for planting, to be repaid in the autumn, without charging interest.

A long queue formed in front of the Household Affairs Office. Jian Yong personally oversaw the operation, while three senior officials, Qian, Sun, and Li, each sat at a table, registering, verifying, and distributing grain, working up a sweat.

An old farmer handed over a bamboo tag, a copy of the land deed issued last year during the land survey. The old clerk, Qian, checked the name and the amount of land, and asked, "How much do you borrow?"

"Three...three bushels will be enough..." the old farmer said timidly.

"Three bushels are enough to cultivate five mu of land," Old Lieutenant Qian said, fiddling with his abacus. "Don't you have eight mu?"

"There are still three acres of uncultivated land, without fertilizer, so it won't grow well even if you plant anything..."

"Then I'll borrow five dou." Old Clerk Qian wrote it down in his notebook. "Return five dou in the autumn, remember?"

The old farmer's eyes widened: "No...no interest rate hike?"

"The 'Edict to Encourage Agriculture' clearly states that loans are interest-free," said Old Clerk Qian, pointing to the yellow paper pasted on the wall. "It was personally approved by Magistrate Liu."

The old farmer knelt down with a thud and kowtowed towards the direction of the prefectural government office: "Lord Liu, save me! Save my whole family!"

The people in line behind them were buzzing with discussion, and some were wiping away tears.

Jian Yong walked over and helped the old farmer up: "Old man, work hard in your fields, and remember to pay back the grain after the autumn harvest. If there is a famine, you can apply for a deferral of the tax. The magistrate said he won't force anyone to their death."

"We'll pay! We'll definitely pay!" The old farmer clutched the grain sack, his hands trembling. "The magistrate gave us a way to survive. If we renege on our debt, are we even human?"

The distribution of grain continued until the afternoon. Jian Yong watched as the last bag of millet was taken away and asked Old Clerk Qian, "How much was lent out today?"

"Three thousand four hundred shi (a unit of dry measure)," Old Clerk Qian said, flipping through the account books. "It involves two thousand one hundred households."

"Remember this clearly." Jian Yong nodded. "When it's time to harvest the grain in the fall, you take people with you. Be polite, and if they're really having trouble, don't push them too hard."

"Your humble servant understands."

Just then, a commotion broke out outside. Zhang Wu arrived with a troop of soldiers, escorting several grain carts. The sacks on the carts were bulging, but the escorts, several powerful local officials' stewards, looked dejected.

"Registrar Jian!" Zhang Wu shouted. "These few have set up a secret checkpoint at Shili Pavilion outside the city, collecting tolls—one liter for every dou of grain!"

Jian Yong frowned and walked to the grain cart. The sacks were branded with the character "Wang," indicating they belonged to Wang Chun's family.

"Does the prince know?"

The steward fell to his knees with a thud: "Registrar, spare me! It was...it was greedy of me; I wanted to skim some profits...The Prince was unaware!"

"Didn't know?" Jian Yong sneered. "The car is yours, the seal is yours, and you say you didn't know?"

He turned to Zhang Wu and said, "Seize the grain carts and escort the people to the prefectural government. I'm going to see Wang Chun."

At Wang Chun's residence, the tea had gone cold for the third time.

Jian Yong sat in the guest seat, silent, only watching Wang Chun. Wang Chun, sweat beading on his forehead, rubbed his hands together. "Registrant Jian, this...this is truly unknown! That steward is my distant nephew; he's always been one to play tricks. I'll just..."

"Your Highness," Jian Yong interrupted, "the 'Pacifying the People' Edict' has only been in effect for half a month, and someone has already dared to defy it. If this matter is let off lightly, who will obey the edict in the future?"

Wang Chun gritted his teeth: "So, what does the registrar mean..."

"The grain carts will be confiscated to compensate the farmers who were charged fees. The supervisor will be punished with eighty strokes of the cane and one year of imprisonment according to the law." Jian Yong paused, "As for you, Prince, for lax discipline, you will be fined 100,000 coins and have to donate them to the principal of the agricultural loan."

Ten thousand coins wasn't a large sum for Wang Chun, but it still stung.

He remained silent for a long time before finally nodding: "I accept the punishment."

Jian Yong stood up: "The prince is a wise man. What the magistrate wants is for Hanzhong to be stable and for the people to be happy. Whoever blocks this path, the magistrate will remove them, regardless of whether they are powerful figures or meritorious officials."

Those were harsh words. Wang Chun bowed deeply: "Thank you for the reminder, Registrar. I will remember it."

Leaving the Prince's residence, Jian Yong rode back to the city. Along the way, he saw farmers in the fields already turning the soil. The frozen ground hadn't completely thawed yet, and the hoes left white marks as they struck the ground. But the farmers were working hard, humming little tunes.

That was the sound of hope.

On February , the dragon looked up.

Liu Bei, accompanied by Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, inspected the salt wells of Mianyang. The salt workers had already received the news, so they cleaned the well site thoroughly, cleared the silt from the brine pools, and even replaced the reed mats used for drying salt with new ones.

Old salt worker Wu Laoliu and several old buddies were waiting at the wellhead. When they saw Liu Bei dismount, they all knelt down.

"My lord!"

Liu Bei helped Wu Laoliu up and looked at his hand. The crack was still there, but it had been treated with ointment and wrapped in cloth.

"Is your hand feeling better?"

"Much better!" Old Wu grinned, revealing his missing teeth. "General Zhang set up a medicine shed and applies medicine to us every day, and even gives us gloves!"

Zhang Fei shouted from behind, "Those gloves were sewn by the salt workers' wives, they're thick and sturdy!"

Liu Bei walked to the well and watched the salt workers draw brine. The newly made well pulley was light and easy to use; two people could easily turn it to lift a large bucket of brine. The young salt workers were spreading salt on the salt field, their movements nimble, humming songs as they worked.

"What is the daily output?" Liu Bei asked.

The foreman hurriedly replied, "It's stable at seventy shi, and can reach eighty on sunny days."

What about the casualties among the salt workers?

"Last month, only three people sustained minor injuries, all due to their own carelessness. According to General Zhang's order, the injured should rest for three days, and their wages will be paid as usual."

Liu Bei nodded and looked at Zhang Fei: "Yide, well done."

Zhang Fei scratched his head: "I just can't stand it. Those bastards used to treat salt workers like animals and even deducted their wages. Now, the salt workers eat well and dress warmly, so naturally they work hard."

Lunch was served at the well site. It was a large pot of stew, cabbage and tofu with sliced ​​meat, glistening with oil. The salt workers squatted in a circle, wolfing down their food from their bowls. A young salt worker timidly served Liu Bei a bowl.

"My lord, eat."

Liu Bei accepted the food and squatted down to eat with them. The salt workers were initially reserved, but seeing that their lord was actually eating steamed buns with vegetables, they gradually relaxed.

While eating, Wu Laoliu said, "My lord, we've discussed it and we'd like to erect a monument."

"monument?"

"Stand at the entrance of the well site and inscribe the 'Salt Workers' Order' to commemorate the kindness of the magistrate and General Zhang." Wu Laoliu's eyes reddened. "Let future generations of salt workers know that Hanzhong produced good officials who treated salt workers like human beings."

Zhang Fei's eyes welled up with tears as he listened, and he shoveled down several mouthfuls of rice.