Chapter Twelve: The Grand Court Assembly

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“Minister Song, you are treating me to dinner and giving me gifts as well. How could I possibly accept?”

Taking what was offered for free and accepting what should never have been offered at all—this was a swindler’s basic professional virtue. Thank you? Of course I could. But when the confiscations began, would it be possible for him to be the very last one searched?

Song Qi drew several sheets of paper from his robe, laid them gently on the table, and pushed them toward Xiao Zhi. “Minister Xiao, if you refuse, it would mean you do not wish to be my friend.”

For a minister of the highest rank to lower himself so completely showed just how tempting the salt monopoly was.

Xiao Zhi picked up the papers and glanced through them.

Three land deeds and two contracts of service. One of the land deeds was for an estate of five or six hundred acres, all first-grade farmland. The service contracts, naturally, belonged to the two young women.

As Minister of War, Song Qi had gone so far in his words and his gifts that his conduct was beyond reproach. Xiao Zhi would have been embarrassed not to accept.

On his very first day as an official, Xiao Zhi had taken a bribe and become a corrupt official.

Having received the benefits, Xiao Zhi no longer bothered to maintain any pretense. His expression turned solemn. “Minister Song, I know you want Jiangsu. On that day, I will arrange for you to be the first to speak. How does that sound?”

Song Qi clapped his hands, his smile blooming like a flower. “Speaking with Minister Xiao is wonderfully straightforward. Come, Minister Xiao, allow me to toast you.”

The wine was good, the company beautiful, and listening to ballads in the northern capital had a charm all its own.

In this age, people did not drink distilled liquor. They drank filtered fermented rice wine instead. It was slightly sweet, and before he realized it, Xiao Zhi had had several cups too many.

A little drunk, he spoke at length with Song Qi from the depths of his heart. In the end, the two young women had to help him leave.

After Xiao Zhi descended from the small tower, Song Qi leaned against the window and watched him depart with a smile on his face.

The instant Xiao Zhi disappeared from sight, Song Qi’s face gradually turned livid.

Behind him, a white-robed scholar had appeared at some unknown point. Holding a folded fan, he too gazed in the direction Xiao Zhi had gone.

“Third Sword Tang.”

“This humble one is here.”

“What is your opinion?”

“He was not drunk. That man’s thoughts run very deep.”

“Once I obtain the salt routes of Jiangsu, there will be no need to keep Xiao Zhi alive.”

“Yes, my lord. I will make sure to reclaim everything that must be reclaimed.”

Song Qi poured himself another cup of wine and drained it in a single swallow.

By then, the white-robed scholar behind him had vanished without a trace.

Xiao Zhi naturally draped an arm across one of the young women’s shoulders and asked with a smile, “What are your names?”

“This girl’s given name is Zhu. She is my younger sister, Yun.”

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One was named Jiang Zhu, the other Jiang Yun.

Xiao Zhi drawled, “Emerald bamboo screens the bright moon; a clear breeze enters the scholar’s hall. Fine names.”

Mu Weihu approached with several captains and bowed. “My lord, are you returning to your residence?”

The Xiao residence stood in the eastern part of the city. It was a five-courtyard mansion, and in the capital it was hardly inferior to the residence of a third-rank official. It had been bestowed by the late emperor.

Now Xiao Zhi possessed a grand house but had neither family nor servants.

That was because his predecessor had been a compulsive gambler, pawning nearly everything he owned in exchange for the gambling-house attendant’s cheerful cry of, “Come again, sir!”

The sisters, Jiang Zhu and Jiang Yun, helped Xiao Zhi lie down, then found rooms for themselves wherever they pleased. Before long, thunderous snores filled the residence.

Had Xiao Zhi wished it, the three of them could easily have shared the same bed, and the sisters had undoubtedly prepared themselves for that possibility.

Xiao Zhi was naturally no paragon of virtue. He simply disliked reckless indulgence with strangers. He preferred things to unfold naturally.

The following day, before dawn, the two sisters were already attending to Xiao Zhi, helping him dress and wash.

Xiao Zhi did not refuse. He accepted their service with a perfectly clear conscience.

In this era, the hierarchy was unmistakable. Xiao Zhi neither wished to alter other people’s beliefs nor possessed the power to do so.

Indeed, the age was already influencing him. Who would not enjoy having clothes put on him and meals placed before him?

The morning court.

Xiao Zhi still stood beside the palace hall entrance, halberd in hand.

The difference was that many officials now offered him greetings as they passed—everyone except the Minister of Revenue, Shi Weigong.

Shi Weigong wanted to ease their strained relationship as well, but he could not bring himself to lower his pride.

Normally, court was held only once every three days unless some major matter required discussion and resolution.

Today, there was indeed a major matter.

“Present your memorials if there are matters to report. If not, withdraw.”

After the eunuch’s shrill voice fell, no official stepped forward. The silence in the court was frightening.

“I have a memorial to present.”

Xiao Zhi carried his long halberd to the center of the hall.

At the sight of that weapon, its blade gleaming coldly, several officials instinctively wanted to edge backward.

“I have completed the draft regulations for the Salt Act. Once they have been finalized, they may be circulated among the great families and eminent clans.”

Xiao Zhi produced his memorial, and an eunuch passed it on to Qin Yong.

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Xiao Zhi’s memorial was written in plain language. He knew nothing of elaborate classical phrasing, and such language often obscured meaning anyway. He had dictated the text while Jiang Zhu had written it down.

Qin Yong made a show of reading it once, then ordered the ministers to pass it around.

“Why does this Salt Act permit only the great families and eminent clans to bid, while excluding merchants?”

After reading the regulations, someone raised an objection.

Xiao Zhi shot him a sideways glance. The people he intended to fleece were the great families and eminent clans. What did merchants have to do with it?

Nevertheless, he had to offer an explanation. “The imperial court is relinquishing the right to operate the salt trade. How could it simply wash its hands of the matter? Do you truly believe the court would disregard the people’s livelihood? Merchants pursue profit above all else. If they are allowed to participate, the common people may soon be unable to afford salt. The regulations clearly state that the great families and eminent clans must pledge land as security. Should they violate the regulations, the court will confiscate that land.”

After a brief pause, Xiao Zhi continued, “This time, the court is granting a twenty-year monopoly over the salt trade. Take note: no one may abandon it midway. In addition to the bid price, a fixed annual commercial tax must also be paid.”

Which salt merchant under heaven was not rolling in wealth, even beneath the court’s crushing salt taxes? No one dared imagine how outrageous salt prices might become if the great families and eminent clans were allowed to set them freely.

Would anyone abandon a business this profitable halfway through?

Yet Xiao Zhi had written the clauses concerning the commercial tax and withdrawal in enlarged, heavily emphasized characters, making them impossible to overlook.

Every word was recognizable, and every clause was clear. If problems arose later, they could not claim that he had tricked them. He was a swindler, certainly—but even when he cheated people, he made sure they understood precisely what they were being cheated into.

“Then what of the sealed bids—”

“Some provincial prefectures will be coveted by everyone, while others may attract no interest at all. That is not what the court wishes to see.”

With that single sentence, he silenced the objection.

Xiao Zhi’s aim was to lease out every province, prefecture, and county within Great Chu. Only then could the profits be maximized, drawing every great family and eminent clan in the realm into the trap.

The regulations of the Salt Act contained little unnecessary verbiage. After all, from the emperor down to the great families and eminent clans, everyone was eager to put them into effect immediately.

Qin Yong issued the decree: bidding would begin three days later, at the Imperial City Office.

The matter ended to everyone’s satisfaction.

And three days later, Xiao Zhi had another grand gift prepared for these ministers. But that was a story for later.

The Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial slowly stepped forward. “Your Majesty, the Northern envoy, Wanyan Zhengyu, has been waiting for several days, yet still has received no reply from our court. Yesterday, drunk and raving, he assaulted several officials. The court should promptly decide who will conduct the negotiations.”

Who should negotiate with the Northern envoy? It sounded simple enough—send someone to convey the court’s position. In reality, the relationship with the northern tribes directly concerned the stability of the entire realm. By convention, such matters were handled by the chancellor. If another official were sent, he might lack sufficient authority to negotiate the terms.

Huai Zhong had been stabbed to death by Xiao Zhi, leaving the chancellor’s position vacant.

The Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial was, in effect, asking one question:

Who would be the next chancellor?