Chapter 1971 - Fighting for Money and Profit

Night had fallen over Guangzhou, cloaking the city in darkness that mercifully concealed the torn-up streets and fetid excavation pits. The daytime cacophony of construction faded with the light, but in one room of the Guangzhou Municipal Government, the noise had only just begun.

A Senate meeting—attended by every transmigrator currently stationed in the city—was in full swing. What should have been a routine quarterly review had devolved into a feeding frenzy, ignited by the Q1 Guangzhou Tax Statistical Report delivered by Ai Zhixin's Finance and Tax Bureau.

The assembled transmigrators presented a motley cross-section of humanity: tall and short, fat and thin, men and women, veterans and fresh recruits. All wore the same hungry expression—the look of predators who'd just caught wind of fresh meat. Every hand clutched a kraft paper folder stuffed with "supporting materials," meticulously prepared ammunition for the coming battle.

The moment Ai Zhixin concluded his tax work report, the room erupted. Liu Xiang, the Grand Magistrate, hadn't even opened his mouth before the budget requests began flying.

"My goodness, that's quite a sum! Grand Magistrate Liu, you haven't forgotten your promise, have you? The Five Immortals Temple is falling apart, and I've already committed to Hu Qingbai that we'd convert part of the complex into a National Primary School..."

"Hold your horses, Fatty Cui." Another voice cut in smoothly. "You've got wealthy households practically throwing offerings at you. Why not tap those moneybags to donate for your school? Didn't you just recruit several gentry families into the fold? Old Liu, this city is one massive pit—literally. We can't just leave the roads torn up, the bridge approaches ungraded, the inland rivers clogged with filth. We need to increase infrastructure investment and clean up this environment before someone else dies of plague."

"Grand Magistrate Liu, speaking of which—" The health department representative leaned forward urgently. "Our medical system still hasn't recovered from the last epidemic. Now we're responsible for health support and disease prevention for the entire South China Army. Personnel, equipment, facilities—we're stretched impossibly thin. This is fundamental to liberating all of Guangdong and protecting the welfare of the entire provincial population. We cannot afford another outbreak."

"Liu Xiang, we agreed in the last resolution that the police force would be brought to full strength." The public security delegate's tone brooked no argument. "Many civilian tasks require our involvement. Understaffing simply won't cut it."

"Mayor Liu, after the civil service examination, the Cadre Training School finally got off the ground. But if we want to institutionalize this system permanently, there's still a significant shortfall in instructor salaries and administrative expenses."

"The Planning Commission approved the new district development on Henan Island. Central finance covers construction costs, yes, but preliminary preparation costs fall to us. We're not even a skeleton crew at this point—we need to establish a proper department before we can break ground."

The appeals continued, washing over the room in an unrelenting tide.

Liu Xiang sat in silence, absently twirling a pencil between his fingers, while the clamor built around him. Across the table, Ai Zhixin exchanged glances with his two colleagues from the Finance and Tax Bureau. Just how many promissory notes had Liu Xiang written? The man was hemorrhaging IOUs.

Everyone in this room was broke—and Liu Xiang was broker than most. This much they'd known for some time. It explained why the Grand Magistrate had been calling every other day, conducting inspections every third day, hovering over tax collection work with the anxious intensity of a creditor at a debtor's door. The other department heads had been suspiciously cooperative too—offering venues, personnel, whatever was requested—not out of comradely solidarity, but because everyone was waiting to carve up this pot of rendered fat now that the Finance and Tax Bureau had finally cooked it. Still, the explosiveness of today's scene exceeded even their cynical expectations. They'd anticipated an orderly discussion, perhaps some polite verbal sparring over allocation priorities. Not this undignified scramble.

The Wang couple—Wang Qiyi and his wife—had spent enough years around Wudaokou to understand the Senate's financial dysfunction intimately. Many expedient practices had passed muster when the territory was small and the population tiny, allowing for direct central financial management. That era had ended. The old methods couldn't scale.

Meng Xian, meanwhile, sat with an air of serene composure. He'd brought his own document today: a Quarterly Treasury Tax Entry Table produced by the bank in the format used for mayoral review back in the old timeline, based on templates provided by Zhang Xiaoqi. The Delong Guangzhou Branch had officially assumed National Treasury functions under the aegis of the Central Reserve Bank's Guangzhou Branch, and Meng Xian had the numbers to prove it. He'd had no intention of weighing in on revenue issues today—until Ai Zhixin cornered him yesterday, delivering an impassioned plea for support on fiscal disbursement procedures. Looking at the way this meeting was unfolding, Ai Zhixin was about to have a very long night.

"Alright, alright! I know what everyone needs; I've got it all written down." Liu Xiang finally stood, raising his voice to cut through the din. "Fatty Cui, stop waxing poetic about temple renovations. You think you're short on funds? I'm drowning in red ink—"

Seeing the meeting slide inexorably off-topic—transitioning from allocation debates into grandiose vision-painting—Liu Xiang brought his fist down on the table. "It's not even certain this money can be used yet!"

The conference room fell silent.

"Ahem. Let me explain." Wang Qiyi saw the window of opportunity and spoke up before Liu Xiang could call on anyone by name. This had been agreed upon beforehand by the trio from Finance and Tax: Ai Zhixin would deliver concluding remarks only; the Wang couple would absorb the initial flak. Maximum maneuverability depending on how the room reacted. As long as Ai Zhixin—the Chief Director—didn't commit a misstep, they could navigate safely. After all, anything inflammatory would come from the Vice Directors.

Wang Qiyi saw no point in selective reporting or embellishment. Everyone here was a transmigrator; exposure to modern governance in the old timeline meant they'd understand the rationale. Full transparency was the only responsible course.

First, he explained, all levels of government under the Senate now maintained independent fiscal accounts. The era of strolling into the bank and withdrawing cash based on a handwritten slip from Wudaokou was over. Under the new fiscal system, all revenue—confiscations, war spoils, taxes, profit remittances from enterprises like Purple Light Pavilion, Purple Precious Studio, the South China Sugar Factory, and monopoly funds from tobacco and salt—was deposited into the National Treasury. But local governments couldn't touch National Treasury funds directly. They had to wait for the Treasury to allocate appropriations to local fiscal accounts according to regulation, and only then could they withdraw operating expenses from their own account.

Second, the Senate had not yet established a tax-sharing framework. This meant all tax revenue belonged to the Center. Though tax funds were collected in Guangzhou and deposited into the National Treasury at Guangzhou Delong, the legal owner of those funds was the Central State Council. Under the current system, Guangzhou had to wait for the Center to issue a fiscal appropriation notice. After the Municipal Finance and Tax Bureau received notification and forwarded an appropriation request to Guangzhou Delong, the bank would transfer funds from the National Treasury to the Guangzhou Municipal Fiscal Account in the stipulated amount. Until that appropriation notice arrived, not a single copper coin of the tax revenue in the Q1 report actually belonged to Guangzhou City.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Someone shot to their feet before Wang Qiyi could finish. "After all that, this money has nothing to do with us?"

"Exactly! This is even worse than the old system. At least before, we could use part of what we collected locally. Now we have to beg permission for everything!"

"This is just 'running to Beijing to grovel for ministry handouts,' provincial edition!"

"So what you're saying is Guangzhou is flat broke? We don't have a penny to our name?"

The room descended into chaos.

"Everyone, please—let me clarify." Meng Xian saw the situation spiraling and intervened. "The banking system is independent. All departments opened accounts with Delong before this; you're familiar with the principle, aren't you?"

He was referring to the standardization requirements imposed by the Senate after the Second Congress to regulate departmental fund usage. Everyone in this room had worked in "Central Ministries" before their transfer to Guangzhou, so the concept wasn't foreign.

"This is just the beginning—starting with finance. Fiscal reform is inevitable. If we don't implement these changes, the chaos that plagued our departmental budgets will simply replicate itself across every level of government."

Seeing emotions stabilize and silence return, Meng Xian pressed his advantage. "Whatever else we may or may not achieve, our basic governmental management systems should at least align with twenty-first-century standards. Besides, Old Wang was only describing the procedural requirements before fund allocation. He didn't say the money wouldn't be distributed to you."

Liu Xiang pondered this for a long moment, then spoke slowly. "Old Wang. Director Ai. You're the Finance and Tax Bureau. Collection and disbursement both run through your hands. You're the professionals, and I'm sure the system is sound. But Guangzhou still needs to eat."

He leaned forward, his tone measured but pointed. "Previously, I relied entirely on returned confiscation funds to keep the lights on. Look around this city. Roads need repair. Trash needs clearing. Street security must be maintained. We just weathered a plague outbreak. And we recruited a new cohort of civil servants—your Finance and Tax Bureau took quite a few of them, I might add. Does none of this cost money? I'm not trying to write bad checks here, but every transmigrator in this room desperately needs funds to build Guangzhou into the beacon of the continent we all envision. I already have to submit reports upward every time I need an allocation. Now you're telling me I not only have to keep begging the Center for funds, but I need to file paperwork just to access the money keeping me afloat? How is this not strangling us?"

Ai Zhixin's scalp prickled. If this devolved into a policy debate or systems discussion, he had the Wang couple as backup—he feared nothing. But Liu Xiang had clearly recognized the futility of playing the professional card and pivoted to emotional appeals, moral high ground, and coalition-building with the other Guangzhou department heads. This was harder to parry. Just as Ai Zhixin was formulating his response—calculating how to stake out a firm position without leaving himself vulnerable to criticism—Wang Qiyi spoke first.

"You're overthinking this, Old Liu. We're all here serving the Senate, serving our transmigration cause. How could we possibly strangle everyone's operational capacity? New methods for new problems, old methods for old problems. That funding absolutely will not be cut off."

"But I still have no money in hand right now, do I?" Liu Xiang wasn't buying it. "Tax revenue collected in Guangzhou must first be fully remitted to the Center, and then we wait for the Center to distribute it back. Correct?"

"In simple terms, yes, but—" Wang Qiyi chose his words carefully, recalling the strategy he'd hammered out with Ai Zhixin. "Our system is still in its infancy. Many processes are makeshift. We've already thought through the concerns you're raising, Old Liu. We prepared a proposal beforehand—Ai Zhixin already gave everyone a preview, didn't he? Since everyone finds it so vexing to have money sitting in the treasury but unable to access it, why don't we discuss the solution?"

(End of Chapter)