Chapter 1995 - Visit
Wang Qiyi swayed gently with the bumps of the sedan chair, calculating the third quarter's revenue forecast in his mind. After more than a year in Guangzhou, the tax collection framework had essentially stabilized, and the fiscal system's construction was advancing step by step. Yet this "Striking Local Tyrants" business—which he'd heard about from Lingao to Guangzhou—had seen not a single action from him personally. It was becoming somewhat untenable.
The 'Confiscation Revenue' line on the third quarter report is going to look very good, Wang Qiyi thought with relief. He glanced sidelong at Inspection Division Director Li Fulai, who sat opposite, flipping through his files yet again.
"What is it, Director Li? Forget to bring something?"
Li Fulai was seven or eight years younger than Wang Qiyi—the most senior among the "Hainan Gang" of naturalized cadres at the Guangzhou Finance and Tax Bureau. Yet Wang Qiyi addressed him by title in both public and private matters, rather than calling him "Little Li" as he did others. The reason was simple: Li Fulai belonged to the "Basic Team" that Ai Zhixin had brought from Qiongshan. Originally an unremarkable small accountant in Qiongzhou Prefecture City, he had "submitted with hair bound" shortly after the Senate took Qiongshan.
It wasn't that his consciousness ran particularly high, or that his vision was broad enough to recognize the Senate as the "Great Trend." The truth was simpler: without submitting to the Bandits, there was no rice to eat. Put plainly, circumstances had forced his hand. As the saying went, "Poor until your balls are showing."
Li Fulai was a Guangdong native who'd studied for a few years, served an apprenticeship, and worked as an accountant. He was literate, knew his ledgers, and was undeniably clever. Before long, he'd distinguished himself among the Grain Collection Bureau's naturalized cadres, becoming head of Qiongshan County's Grain Collection Bureau within a few years. Even Liu Xiang, the County Office Director at the time, had praised him—whenever County Office meetings touched on tax matters, Li Fulai was summoned to attend. His children all studied at Qiongshan Primary School; his wife had found work at the County Clothing Factory that Liu Xiang organized. The whole family qualified as textbook "Red Roots, Upright Seedlings." When the Guangzhou City Finance and Tax Bureau first opened, Ai Zhixin had made a point of mentioning—sometimes overtly, sometimes subtly—the work abilities and "loyalty" of several naturalized cadres. Li Fulai's name came up most frequently. Wang Qiyi possessed the political sensitivity one expected from a cadre who'd held positions in the old timeline. Moreover, his own observations confirmed that Li Fulai genuinely had skills. Thus, "Basic Team" matched to "Basic Chassis," and Li Fulai's appointment as Inspection Division Director proceeded quite naturally.
"No, I have everything." Li Fulai immediately stowed his files and corrected his posture. "Director Wang, I just feel more assured checking again. We don't know what situation we'll encounter. Didn't you say 'sharpening the spear before battle—if not sharp, at least shiny'?"
"Haha, correct. But gentry families like the Liangs—you shouldn't be unfamiliar with them, Director Li?"
"That's right, Director Wang. I know a thing or two about such households." With Li Fulai's shrewdness, it was easy to recognize this as an allusion to his past employment as an accountant in the Hai Shuzu Hai family. But he didn't mind—he hadn't been the only one who "abandoned the master and turned his back" that year. "I worked in Master Hai's household in Qiongshan once. Later, word spread that Master Hai's ocean-going vessel had been robbed—not only was his capital lost, but he'd also incurred heavy debts. Creditors blocked his door. The advisors and chief accountants all departed. As a mere second accountant, I naturally scattered with the rest."
What Li Fulai didn't mention was what happened after he'd hastily resigned from the Hai household. He'd failed to find another position, and his circumstances grew increasingly desperate. Later, when he heard the Hai family had recovered its prosperity, he'd asked acquaintances on multiple occasions to speak on his behalf, hoping to return. But Master Hai had "declined without accepting" every one of those former staff and servants who had failed to "share adversity" with him during the crisis. Li Fulai had watched the Hai family climb ever higher on their Australian connections—oil adding to fire, flowers embroidered upon brocade—while he himself sank nearly to the point of selling wife and children. And still people pointed at him behind his back, cursing him as a "Betrayer of Masters" who "deserved it."
Thus, after Li Fulai arrived at the Finance and Tax front, his combat effectiveness ran especially high and his stance stood especially firm. Toward figures like gentry and major households, he showed neither mercy nor restraint. His unpalatable past had much to do with this.
"That's true—human nature. A man must find a mouthful of rice for his wife and children. Since you're familiar with how these gentry operate, tell me: how will they try to cope with us?"
"This, I feel Director Wang, is something you need not worry about."
"Why not?"
"The methods of these gentry and major households—brilliant, truly brilliant, if one counts them individually. I fear I couldn't finish listing them by the time we arrive. But this brilliance is only brilliance under the old system..." Li Fulai paused briefly. "As the saying goes, 'Great Skill Appears Artless.' Under our Senate's rule, the Chiefs conquer their ten thousand methods with a single sentence: 'All Must Abide by Law.' Our Great Song Senate emphasizes law above all else—and understands law better than anyone..."
Hehe, Wang Qiyi thought. That's quite enough flattery. The draft you helped compile listed nearly twenty households—now only seven or eight remain. Whether that was truly "According to Law"... Li Fulai, opening his eyes and spouting lies about the Senate "Abiding by Law"—does he really have no sense of the irony?
Yet even knowing it was flattery, Wang Qiyi found himself accepting it comfortably.
"Director Wang, we've arrived at the Liang residence."
The guard riding outside opened the sedan door. Wang Qiyi descended the vehicle ladder without haste, casually stamping his feet before making a show of brushing dust from his uniform sleeves. Today he wore stock he'd brought from the old timeline—not only custom-made, but complete with shoulder badges and chest tags. However, because they conflicted with existing CI design, the original badges and emblems had been removed and replaced with products customized from Lingao's Shop 82. Though crafted from genuine gold and silver with fine workmanship, they looked somewhat incongruous against the old-timeline uniform.
Police had already deployed a perimeter around the Liang residence gate. The gate stood wide open. Several servants waited with hands at their sides, ready to serve. Wang Qiyi had barely stepped from the sedan—he hadn't yet mounted the entrance stairs—when an elderly man rushed forward from within the gate and performed a deep bow. The gesture startled Wang Qiyi considerably.
"This old man, Liang Wendao, greets Director Wang."
"Please—Master Liang, why such formality?" Seeing such an elderly man, a full generation his senior, bowing before him, Wang Qiyi still couldn't overcome the psychological barrier ingrained from the old timeline. He steadied Liang Wendao at once. After the elder straightened, Wang Qiyi studied this jinshi—reputedly a two-term prefect—with care. He observed a thin figure in a plain green robe, three strands of white beard beneath his chin. His eyes held a smile without servility, projecting an air of one who had withdrawn from worldly affairs to cultivate the Way. The contrast with Fatty Cui was immeasurable.
"Since this old man returned to retirement, illness has made movement difficult. My son lacks initiative and failed to pay you a personal visit. I hope Director Wang can forgive this oversight."
"Master Liang, please—there's no need for such apologies. Cihui Hall has aided the poor and those in distress throughout. When the Usurper Ming recklessly started his war, the Liang family helped preserve many Senate properties in Guangzhou City. By that logic, it's I who should have visited Master Liang first."
"I dare not accept such praise—truly, Director Wang, you're embarrassing this old man. Please, come in."
"After you..."
Major households with jinshi degrees in two generations, like the Liang family, ranked among Guangzhou's first-class gentry. Beyond the ceremonial flagpole at the gate, the estate revealed itself—eaves layered upon eaves, magnificent and imposing.
Liang Wendao invited the group into the Main Hall for tea. Once Wang Qiyi took his seat, he surveyed the room. The décor was sparse yet elegant. From the calligraphy and paintings on the walls to the antique ornaments on the tables, everything bespoke the "scholarly elegance" of this family.
Guests and hosts settled into their seats. Another round of tea service and pleasantries proved unavoidable. Nearly half an hour dawdled by before Wang Qiyi cut to the main topic.
"Master Liang, today's visit is routine business. First, we wish to hear what opinions our taxpayers have regarding the Finance and Tax Bureau. Second, we need to verify whether the account books are in order. It's merely coincidence that I'm in this inspection group. Please don't read any other meaning into it."
"Of course, of course." Liang Wendao clasped his hands toward Wang Qiyi, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Director Wang speaks too heavily. Whatever requirements you have, this old man's family will certainly comply. It's just..."
Wang Qiyi's eyelid twitched. Is he about to make a move?
"Master Liang, please speak frankly if you're facing difficulties."
"Sigh—" Liang Wendao patted the armrest with a deep sigh. "Director Wang doesn't know. This old man's health has deteriorated badly these past years. Large and small matters in the household have all been handed to my legitimate son to manage. I won't hide it from you, Chief—I obtained this son only after thirty. I spoiled him too much from childhood. Now he often acts willfully and arbitrarily. I deeply fear his handling of matters may prove inconsiderate, perhaps touching upon the Great Song's regulations."
"You're referring to Young Master Liang Cunhou?"
"That unworthy son, exactly."
"Haha, Master Liang, you worry too much. Young Master Liang's public spirit and righteousness are well known—I heard of them even back in Lingao. Since he manages most household affairs, would you trouble yourself to summon him? I'd welcome the chance to speak with him and understand matters better."
Wang Qiyi's speech fell awkwardly between literary and vernacular, prompting a pause. Liang Wendao found it awkward to hear as well. But the meaning was clear enough. He immediately indicated that Liang Cunhou was in his study and sent a servant to fetch him at once.
The teacup on his desk had not been touched. Servants had attempted several times to add water or change the tea, only to be dismissed by Liang Cunhou each time. He had just seen off Lin Zunxiu when news arrived that the Bandits themselves intended to come and inspect the account books. The report made his heart pound. So the Bandits are coming in person this time. My Liang family still carries some weight, it seems. Liang Cunhou permitted himself a bitter smile. The folding fan in his hand opened and closed in rhythm with his racing thoughts. Just a month ago, after those people had vanished from the Temple of Guan Yu, his father had spoken with him by candlelight on several occasions. Those words still echoed in his ears.
"Son, I have asked not of worldly affairs these years. Large and small matters in the household I've handed entirely to you. I watched you co-found the Charity Hall with the Australians, cultivating their friendship. Then, when the Australians burned Five Rams Station and the city's major households flocked to curry favor, you began distancing yourself from them day by day. In this drawing near and pushing away, your mind—your father knows it all..."
"Father..."
"Father knows. Our Liang family has received Imperial grace for generations. By reason and by sentiment, we should not live so ignobly. That you carry resentment in your heart is only natural..."
......
"Son, have you read of the old matters at Zhidu?" Liang Wendao's hand stroked his knee, as if weighted by ten thousand thoughts. His voice grew heavy. "Father knows you fear these Australians walk not merely the path of changing dynasties, but of digging up the very roots of the Teaching of Names. But the world's great trend flows vast and mighty—those who follow prosper; those who resist perish. The Australians have made their intentions clear enough. Father fears he hasn't many days remaining. When that day comes, you will be Family Head. One stroke of your brush, the lives of our entire clan numbering in the hundreds—which weighs more, which weighs less. You must weigh this clearly."
Pa—the folding fan in his hand snapped shut.
Liang Cunhou's gaze hardened to steel, as if he had resolved upon ten thousand determinations. He adjusted his clothing and cap, then walked toward the Main Hall with hands clasped behind his back.