Finding a job usually means having to rent a place to live, and Zhao An was no exception. With no money in his pockets, however, he had no choice but to borrow a room at his uncle Wang Defa’s house for a while, intending to find his own place once he had some extra cash. He never expected that the Ganquan County Tax Bureau—a government post notoriously flush with "grease"—would actually provide housing as a staff benefit.
It was a pleasant surprise.
The house allocated to Zhao An was located on Renfeng Alley in the Xiaguan district. Its former owner was Jiang Chun, the chief merchant of the Lianghuai salt industry, who at the height of his success was known as the "richest man under heaven." Unfortunately, he caught the eye of the cash-strapped Emperor Qianlong. Before Jiang Chun passed away from illness last year, he had still been selling off family assets to raise funds to repay the usurious loans he had taken from the Imperial Household Department in the 50th year of Qianlong’s reign.
These weren't loans Jiang Chun had sought out willingly; the Emperor had forced him into them.
Usury had become the largest and most profitable business in the Great Qing dynasty, and the Emperor himself was the biggest lender of them all.
To what extent did Qianlong engage in money lending? Even his own imperial guards and eunuchs had to borrow from him. The Imperial Equipage Department had the Enfeng Pawnshop, the eunuchs had the Enji Pawnshop, the Qianqing Gate guards had the Enlu Pawnshop, and the clerks of the Imperial Household Department had the Fenghe and Wancheng Pawnshops.
Not only that, but Qianlong also lent money to officials. He established a dedicated "Official Housing Rental Treasury" within the Imperial Household Department, managed by the Construction Office under the supervision of a specific minister. If an official paid back their loan on time, the Emperor would be pleased and grant them a promotion.
If they couldn't pay?
Confiscating their family property was considered an act of "imperial grace."
The trend trickled down from the top, resulting in pawnshops popping up everywhere across the Great Qing. It not only left the officialdom in a foul, corrupt state but also nearly crushed the civilian economy under the weight of usury.
One certainly had to repay the Emperor's money, but the interest was so high that even Jiang Chun, the chief salt merchant, couldn't bear the burden. After Jiang Chun died, Qianlong felt he had been shortchanged and issued an edict to seize all of the Jiang family's property in Yangzhou, including their real estate. As one of the grassroots "case-handling" agencies, the Tax Bureau conveniently "picked up" this property on Renfeng Alley.
Besides the Renfeng Alley house, the Tax Bureau owned several other properties in the city, all of which were distributed as staff benefits. Otherwise, there was no way to deal with them; they couldn't exactly sell them, and leaving them to gather dust was out of the question.
The courtyard where Zhao An’s uncle, Wang Defa, lived on Luosi Jiding Alley was also owned by the Tax Bureau. Because so many people had died in that alley in years past, no one was willing to live there, which made it cheap enough for Wang Defa—then only in his early thirties—to move in. He had stayed for over twenty years, eventually growing fond of the place.
But he only held the right of residency, not the property rights. He certainly couldn't pass the courtyard down to his descendants, unless some "policy" changed to allow internal staff to purchase their housing at a low price. A few years ago, when Wang Defa’s son got married, the daughter-in-law refused to live in that "haunted" alley. The old couple had no choice but to buy a house in Dongguan for the newlyweds, taking on a fair bit of debt to do so.
Fortunately, Wang Defa worked at the Tax Bureau and was something of a personage, so he managed to pay off his debts through private side-earnings over the years. His son was filial and repeatedly asked the old couple to move into the new house in Dongguan, but Wang Defa was dead set against it. He declared that even if he were to die, he would die on Luosi Jiding Alley.
Aside from not wanting to be a burden to his son and daughter-in-law, he was likely trying to squeeze every last bit of benefit from the "agency," hoping that if the office ever decided to dispose of the property, he might actually be able to get it deeded in his name.
It wasn't about greed; it was simply human nature.
As a newcomer, Zhao An’s treatment couldn't possibly match that of the veterans. The Bureau wasn't about to give him a private house, so he had to share space with others. Sharing a room—or a rental, though it was free—was the reality.
Eleven rooms housed nineteen people.
Half of them were the Bureau's patrols—the errand runners responsible for collecting commercial taxes. Because the nature of their work was irregular, the "turnover" was high; it might be Zhang San or Li Si living there today, and Wang Er Mazi tomorrow.
The others were the keepers of the Archive and Treasury. These men held higher status than the patrols and were closer to Commissioner Ding Zhenglong, mainly because they were all from Ding's hometown. It was the same logic as a magistrate bringing trusted relatives or fellow countrymen to a new post. The Tax Bureau wasn't highly ranked, but the "grease" was plentiful; without people whose backgrounds you knew inside out watching over things, who would you blame if the tax silver went missing?
Aside from the patrols and keepers, the only others living in the courtyard were Zhao An and his roommate, who was also his "Master," Liu Xiaolou.
Liu Xiaolou was also in the Accounting Office. He was a year younger than Zhao An and hailed from Baoying County, Yangzhou. A proper Licentiate, he had been introduced to the Tax Bureau by his uncle, who worked at the Prefectural Yamen. Because he had joined six months earlier than Zhao An, the higher-ups arranged for him to "show Zhao An the ropes."
"Showing the ropes" meant teaching—from the etiquette of the yamen down to the specific tasks of the job. Since he was the teacher, he was the Master; there was no changing that. It had been the rule for years, and it wouldn't change for Zhao An.
Zhao An was at peace with this. He called his younger-by-a-year colleague "Master" left and right, which made Liu Xiaolou feel quite smug. After receiving instructions from Manager Zhang Quan, Liu had enthusiastically led his apprentice to the "dormitory" to get settled.
The two shared a room, though they had separate beds. The beds were similar to the metal cots in the student dorms of Zhao An’s past life, except they weren't bunk beds. They were a bit small, but perfectly fine for sleeping.
Perhaps aware of Zhao An’s connection to Wang Defa, Liu Xiaolou busied himself helping him get settled, first by fetching him bedding and then by introducing him to the others. Upon learning that Zhao An didn't even have toiletries, Liu generously bought him a towel, a toothbrush made of willow twigs, and a box of sea salt.
The towel was for washing his face, and the toothbrush and sea salt were, naturally, for cleaning his teeth. Seeing the toothbrush, which looked much like the boar-bristle ones from his previous life, Zhao An wasn't particularly surprised; he knew that the Chinese had long used toothbrushes, though it seemed it was the Ming dynasty’s Emperor Xiaozong who had truly standardized the design.
Though he didn't have much money, Zhao An was genuinely grateful to his young "Master" Liu. He deliberately sought to get closer to him, so he wouldn't have to worry about digging for information himself. Who was close to whom, who was at odds, who liked what, who hated what—the "Master" would surely gossip about it all.
He was treating Liu Xiaolou exactly like the aunties at his previous workplace.
Since it was his first day, he certainly didn't have to work. Liu Xiaolou, being a young man himself and happy for an excuse to slack off, led Zhao An out to explore. Zhao An intended to decline, but then thought better of it; there was no point in dampening the Master's spirit. So, he followed along, laughing and chatting.
He had originally hoped to see the famous Slender West Lake, but Liu Xiaolou had zero interest in that and dragged him straight to Dongguan Street.
Dongguan Street, along with the Xiaguan Pier, was the most prosperous part of Yangzhou. It was lined with shops and every trade imaginable; the street was packed with people, and carriages and horses came and went in an endless stream. Zhao An made a rough estimate that there were over a hundred shops from one end of the street to the other. It felt very much like the old city centers he had visited in his past life—much more authentic than those artificially constructed "ancient" towns.
Liu didn't buy anything, just wandered around aimlessly. When they were tired, he pulled Zhao An to a stall selling lotus-root starch dumplings, sat him down, and ordered two bowls of the local specialty.
"These dumplings are delicious. They have a filling inside; I promise you'll want more after one bite."
The enthusiastic Liu Xiaolou highly recommended the hometown delicacy. Zhao An had never eaten these before; he scooped one up with a spoon and took a bite. It was sweet, refreshing, and carried a rich scent of osmanthus. He couldn't help but nod in praise.
Liu Xiaolou beamed. "If you like them, have more. If one bowl isn't enough, I'll order another for you."
"One is plenty. My stomach wouldn't handle two," Zhao An said with a laugh. As he continued eating, Liu Xiaolou nudged his left shoulder and gestured for him to look across the way.
Not knowing what was happening, Zhao An looked up and saw two women talking to a clerk in a jade shop across the street. Judging by their attire, they appeared to be in their thirties, perhaps even forties. He didn't see the issue.
But Liu Xiaolou’s eyes were locked on them, his expression lecherous. Zhao An couldn't help but find it amusing. *You're only nineteen,* he thought, *aren't your tastes a bit heavy?*
After finishing his bowl, Liu was still staring at the women. Zhao An coughed lightly and whispered, "Master, they’re much older than you. Their sons might even be older than you."
"You don't understand," Liu Xiaolou shook his head, popping a dumpling into his mouth, his eyes still fixed on the target.
Perhaps because the temperature was a bit high, one of the women felt warm and loosened her collar slightly. This movement revealed a bit of her shoulder, and Liu Xiaolou’s eyes went wide.
Zhao An felt absolutely nothing. Forget a bit of shoulder—he’d seen much more than that. He could only attribute Liu’s reaction to a lack of experience. If he were to show this kid a modern, racy video, he might just drop dead on the spot.
As he set down his bowl to leave, the two women happened to walk out of the shop. At such close range, Liu Xiaolou actually gulped. Zhao An found it so funny he couldn't help but blurt out a pun: "Indeed, quite a 'slippery shoulder' of a veteran."
"..."
Liu Xiaolou didn't understand what "veteran’s slippery shoulder" had to do with these two women. It wasn't until they were strolling toward Xiaguan Pier that he couldn't resist asking what that meant.
Zhao An laughed and didn't bother to explain.
How could he?
What could a little fledgling know about the subtleties of such a joke?
In his field of vision lay the Grand Canal, the artery that cut through the north and south, and the vital transfusion line that sustained the economies of both the Ming and Qing dynasties.
The countless ships docked at the pier were presumably tribute grain ships heading north, but Liu Xiaolou claimed these weren't grain ships—they were salt ships.
"So many salt ships. No wonder the salt merchants are so rich," Zhao An mused. For thousands of years, the city of Yangzhou had relied on salt. Without it, there would be no talk of "having ten thousand strings of cash and riding a crane down to Yangzhou."
Liu Xiaolou, however, had a different take. "The salt merchants are rich, but I heard Manager Zhang say that times are hard for the Yangzhou salt merchants now. They say many are quitting the business, and even the salt fields by the sea have dwindled."
"Oh?" Zhao An had never heard this before and found it strange. How could selling salt be difficult? If the population were shrinking, that would be one thing, but the population was growing. People needed to eat salt, and the more people there were, the more salt they consumed. Besides, the salt trade was a monopoly; how could it possibly be hard?
Liu Xiaolou didn't know the details; he was only repeating what he’d heard. If he actually understood the mechanics of it, he wouldn't be working as a junior clerk at the Tax Bureau.
Seeing that the time was right and the tour was over, he led Zhao An back to Renfeng Alley to rest so they could start work at the Accounting Office tomorrow.
In fact, what Liu said was true. Times were indeed difficult for the salt merchants of Yangzhou. The cause was the sensational "Lianghuai Salt Warrant Case" from over twenty years ago. That case had led to the execution of the former Salt Administration Commissioners Gao Heng, Pufu, and Lu Jianzeng. Even the Emperor’s most trusted scholar, Ji Xiaolan, had been exiled to the Western Regions for his involvement.
With the officials falling, the various tiers of salt merchants—the warehouse merchants, transport merchants, field merchants, and chief merchants—had been dealt a heavy blow. Many had seen their families ruined.
The Lianghuai salt industry had never recovered. The number of Lianghuai salt fields had dropped from twenty at their peak to twelve. The bustling scene of salt being loaded and unloaded that Zhao An saw at the pier was already the "afterglow" of the Lianghuai salt industry.
And the cause of all this, aside from Qianlong’s unbridled extravagance, was the military campaigns in the Jinchuan region, which had drained the national treasury of tens of millions of taels.
When the imperial court had no money and the salt merchants did, how else were they to "slaughter the pig"?
Back at their quarters, Zhao An and Liu Xiaolou tidied up a bit before heading to bed. The patrols and keepers who had just finished their shifts were either out drinking or talking and laughing in the courtyard. The noise was a bit much, making it hard for Zhao An to fall asleep, but he didn't go out to stop them. He knew that building a good relationship with his colleagues was the first step toward finding his footing in the "agency."
And finding his footing was the key to moving forward.
He only wished he had some money; otherwise, he would have bought some pork head meat and a few jugs of wine to treat his colleagues to a gathering.
The next day, before dawn, he followed Liu Xiaolou to the Tax Bureau to officially start work. Breakfast was eaten at the "internal canteen" behind the Bureau. It wasn't exactly a feast—just thin porridge, flatbread, pickles, and fried dough sticks.
It was enough to fill his belly, but "eating well" was out of the question.
After all, the canteen was contracted out to Commissioner Ding’s own third grand-uncle. And it wasn't free; everyone had to pay a monthly fee, deducted directly from their salaries. It wasn't much individually, but with over a hundred full-time and temporary staff at the Tax Bureau, it was enough to keep the old man well-fed and plump.
Only people like Wang Defa, who had status in the Bureau, could afford to eat outside; everyone else had to pay up.
Manager Zhang Quan and the others from the Accounting Office hadn't arrived yet, so Liu Xiaolou took Zhao An around to introduce the various "offices" and their respective heads. Zhao An listened carefully, memorizing every detail.
Once the introductions were over, Liu brought him to the Accounting Office. The doors were already open. A few accountants were greeting each other, and they nodded as Liu and Zhao entered.
"Zhao An, this is..."
Just as Liu was about to introduce him to a colleague, Zhao An rushed over to the coal stove that had been sealed the night before. He bent down, unsealed it, added fresh coal, and then picked up a warm kettle and walked to the desk of the nearest accountant: "Sir, where is your teapot?"
***
*Due to delays from the signing editor, the contract won't be finalized until Monday. Once the status is updated, there will be three chapters daily.*