Chapter 1738
Around the first watch, silence had already fallen over Guangzhou City. Since the "Australian Army" had entered, the night curfew—which had grown somewhat lax—was tightened once more. Notices posted everywhere by the Australian Yamen explicitly stipulated that after the beating of the watch, no one was permitted to walk the streets without a road pass.
As soon as the sun set, the Detective Brigade—led by several "Australian Police"—patrolled everywhere, urging "street watchmen" to close the street gates. Residents and shops along the main streets also received orders from their tithing heads to hang lanterns outside their doors after dark. The lights glowed dimly, swaying beneath the eaves. In their feeble illumination, large printed notices for reassuring the populace could be seen posted at each intersection.
Gallows—structures the citizens of Guangzhou had never seen before—now stood at major road intersections, several corpses hanging from them and swaying slowly in the weak lantern light. Paper signs dangled around their necks, inscribed with crimes like "Robber" and "Thief." Criminals caught hadn't even survived the night.
For the citizens of Guangzhou, these days were uneasy ones. Yet since entering the city, the Fubo Army had maintained strict discipline and committed no crimes against the people—leaving a deep impression. By the second day after the city's fall, markets had largely recovered.
Nevertheless, following the traditional wisdom of minimizing exposure during turbulent times, every household extinguished its lights and retired as soon as the watch was beaten. In this silent, dark night, only a single lamp still burned in a side courtyard deep within a west-city residence.
Bamboo curtains covered the windows and doors tightly, revealing only a sliver of dim light. But inside the hall, illumination blazed. A middle-aged man reclined on a purple sandalwood couch—clearly wealthy. Being at home in the inner residence, he dressed casually: a Daoist robe of Western cloth, mesh gauze on his head, purple silk-bordered Chenqiao straw sandals on his feet. Leaning against a large Nanjing satin bolster, he held a Xiangfei bamboo pipe with Han jade mouthpiece, smoking in silence. Blue-white smoke drifted ethereally, much like his thoughts—swaying, not knowing where to go.
Two maids attended him—one standing behind, one kneeling before, gently massaging his legs and shoulders. Yet this seemed to bring him no comfort. On the Japanese lacquer table before him sat various exquisite "snacks," all untouched. The pre-Qingming Hangzhou tea in his cup—costing several taels per ounce—had gone completely cold.
A man dressed like a private adviser sat diagonally opposite, watching him with something like fear. Never before had he seen his employer so utterly at a loss.
On the table between them lay a notice. The paper and ink were still fresh—clearly not posted long. The vulgar Song typeface indicated its origin: the Australians who had recently entered the city.
"Master, the night grows late. Tomorrow..." The adviser probably felt too much time had passed and couldn't help breaking the silence.
The middle-aged man addressed as "Master" was none other than Mo Rongxin, the manager of Wenlan Academy.
The notice had been brought by Shi Tidi, the academy's accounting adviser. Though Shi Tidi bore the title of accounting adviser for Wenlan Academy, he was in fact Mo Rongxin's private man. Mo Rongxin rarely went to the academy himself; all property revenue and expenditure was handled by this Adviser Shi. Naturally, besides Master Mo, he was the one most concerned about Wenlan Academy's income and expenditure—not only did he receive an annual salary of one hundred twenty taels, but various false accounts and kickbacks netted him five or six hundred taels more. A very large sum!
Today, the shopkeepers of more than ten shops on Chengxuan Street who rented Wenlan Academy storefronts had come to find him, bringing this notice: the Australians had posted orders everywhere demanding demolition of sheds on Chengxuan Street within twelve hours.
Calling them "sheds"—what these families had built were no longer mere sheds. They were practically houses. Beyond the considerable construction costs, demolition would drastically shrink their shop space. Besides inconveniencing business, many tools and goods would need other storage. The shopkeepers had no ideas, so they came to the landlord seeking solutions.
Shi Tidi naturally had no ideas either. In the past, when difficulties arose, he could take his employer's card to the county or prefecture yamen, "chat" with the clerks or advisers, spend some silver, and solve the problem. Now that the officials had changed, the procedures he knew were all obsolete. He didn't even know where the yamen door opened. In panic, he had come to Mo Rongxin for guidance.
"What can we do? Nothing!" Mo Rongxin puffed out a mouthful of smoke, set his dry pipe aside, and turned to rise. The maid beside him hurried to support his arm, using all her strength to help him up.
Mo Rongxin picked up the cold tea and took a large gulp, then sighed. "The Australians have just entered the city, and this Official Liu is new to office. You want to block what they're determined to do? That's seeking death! Go tell them—those who want to hang themselves can go tomorrow. I'm not serving as their cushion!"
Shi Tidi gave two dry laughs. "Master is right. But Wenlan Academy has quite a few shops on Chengxuan Street. If the sheds are all demolished, the losses won't be small. If there's any way to mediate, they're willing to spend money on it."
"They're willing; I am not." Mo Rongxin's voice turned cold. "The hair-thieves are anxious for someone to jump out and serve as a cushion so they can kill someone to establish authority. Whoever wants that glory can go claim it!"
Shi Tidi wasn't reconciled to let this opportunity for kickbacks slip away and continued probing: "Master, should we discuss this matter with Master Gao of Guan Di Temple?"
This was the most powerful "trump card" in Mo Rongxin's hand. In several major crises, he had relied on the Guan Di Temple people to step forward and settle matters. Though this had earned him the ugly name of "beggar's in-law," the benefits had been considerable.
"You think it's easy!" Mo Rongxin snapped. "The hair-thieves aren't fools. Once the Guan Di Temple people get involved, they'll immediately suspect we're playing tricks. If they can't deal with the Guan Di Temple people, isn't it child's play to deal with us?"
"So..." Shi Tidi was disappointed—seeing that this sum of "gratitude money" couldn't be obtained.
"Go tell the shopkeepers: don't blindly seek connections. Just honestly demolish it themselves—at least they can recover some materials. If those black-hearted runners start tomorrow, guaranteed not even a brick will remain. It's getting late; rest here tonight and leave early tomorrow morning. Go."
Seeing the employer's dismissal, Shi Tidi had to stand to take his leave. Mo Rongxin suddenly thought of something. "How is the academy recently?"
"These days since the hair-thieves entered the city, the Headmaster and students haven't come to the academy. The students living there are quiet."
"Watch the head cook closely. Don't let him just know how to skim and pocket for himself, making the academy's meals like pig feed. Starting tomorrow, meals must have meat every day—not just boiled bones and chicken carcasses to count as 'meat,' but whole chickens, ducks, and fish! And rice must be sufficient! Do you understand?!"
"Yes, yes." Shi Tidi was startled. He also had a share in the deducted food expenses.
"Don't lose the big for the small. Are those sour scholars easy to deal with? Messing around like this, they've long been full of complaints." Mo Rongxin fanned himself calmly, deciding to properly "enlighten" him today. "Now that the Australians rule, we must guard against them seizing any opportunity to cause trouble. When that happens, I won't know anything..."
Shi Tidi hurriedly said: "Your student understands. I'll arrange it when I return tomorrow."
In another courtyard of the same residence, Mo Rongxin's fifth daughter-in-law, Gao Huichun, sat alone in her room doing embroidery. She was a young woman in her twenties, married into the Mo family for five years. Before dinner, her maid had come to report that the Fifth Master had business tonight and would rest in the outer study—asking her not to wait up. Though she had shown no expression at the time, she was deeply unhappy. She knew her husband was resting in a maid's room again.
Officials and wealthy men all kept several concubines. Even her father, the beggar chief commanding the beggars, had several concubines. He not only had more than ten women around him but also frequently visited flower boats seeking pleasure, often not returning all night.
When she was betrothed to the Mo family—though pleased to be marrying into a "scholarly family"—she had felt some displeasure upon learning her future husband already had a tongfang maid.
At the beginning of the marriage, they had been quite affectionate. But as time passed, especially after she failed to produce an heir, her husband's affection gradually waned. The days he spent in her room grew fewer and fewer. Had her father-in-law not forced his son to visit her chambers every few days—fearing damage to the relationship between the two families if the young couple fell out—it would be considered good if he came two or three days a month.
Not returning tonight, she understood in her heart what it meant: He was using business as an excuse to spend a spring night with his recently seduced maid.
In this so-called "scholarly family," her father-in-law Mo Rongxin was himself greedy and lustful, keeping four or five thirteen-year-old maids around him year-round for pleasure. His sons proved no better—each with swarms of wives and concubines, still visiting brothels and flower boats. Though her husband was only the fifth son, born of a concubine and lacking status in the family, he too had acquired several maids for his room.
As the legitimate wife, she refused to reveal "pettiness" about such matters before the maids were "brought close." Yet a different kind of pain lingered in her heart—impossible to shake. It's truly bitter to be a woman, she thought. Such things happen before one grows old and beauty fades! Neither conversing with the maids nor listening to the blind girl's singing lessened the ache.
The watch had already been beaten outside. She set down her embroidery, listening to the desolate sound of the watch clapper, thinking of her own circumstances, then of all she had witnessed in this great family over five years. Truly a mixture of all flavors. Her eyes stung uncontrollably; she nearly shed tears.
But she dared not sigh aloud. She even swallowed her sobbing, lest the maids nearby hear and create more trouble.
(End of this chapter)