Chapter 102: Mobilizing the Masses (Part 2)

Tan Guihuang explained that in peaceful times, salt-making alone would ensure food and clothing. The salt field actually produced more than 1,000 yin annually—Leizhou salt merchants alone used to buy several hundred yin each year. But after Landlord Gou took over, wanting to monopolize salt sales, he had forcibly driven the mainland salt merchants away.

"Why?" Wang Luobin was puzzled. For salt merchants, buying from anyone should not matter—why would Landlord Gou occupy the field yet refuse old customers?

"His family has a salt shop in Qiongshan. All salt gets shipped there." Tan Guihuang sighed. "He has his own channels for selling salt to the mainland—why bother with Leizhou merchants?"

Clearly, government-merchant collusion was involved. But none of them understood Ming salt laws, so they could not figure out the key issues.

"As long as we have salt, why worry about grain and clothing?" Xi Yazhou waved his hand dismissively. "Mainland salt merchants are all filthy rich. Are we hard-working salt makers unable to secure basic sustenance?"

Tan Chengqing's joy suddenly turned to silence; he sighed softly. "Just afraid the salt we produce can't be protected."

"Don't worry!" Xi Yazhou said confidently. "With us here—you know these firearms?" He hefted his SKS rifle. Blue gun-steel glinted dimly in the kerosene light. "Hundreds of Huang Family Village militia were still wiped out. You think we're afraid of a few bullies?"

"But what about when you leave? Things will be even worse then." Tan Chengqing was clearly worried about the future. "The government calls you pirates; you call yourselves merchants. Pirates or merchants—you won't stay in Lingao forever. Your iron ships and fast guns—you can leave anytime. Landlord Gou has government connections—" He detailed how Landlord Gou had taken over the salt field, adding a tone of disappointment. He emphasized how county office clerks and runners were all bribed, helping Landlord Gou oppress them—even wanting to seek justice was impossible.

Xi Yazhou nodded thoughtfully. "How many people does the Gou family have?"

"There are two major households in his main lineage." Tan Guihuang knew local conditions better than his son. The Gou family had two brothers. In the countryside was "Gou the Elder"—over a hundred household servants and thugs, including mainland fugitives—extremely vicious. "Gou the Second" had moved to the county seat after his son passed the civil-service examination—he specialized in government connections and lawsuit-brokering. The two households colluded, becoming local tyrants.

"How many people did your village have then?"

"The village was still populous—over 300 households."

"Three or four hundred households—that's three or four hundred able-bodied men," Xi Yazhou said. "Three or four hundred men—and you just watched as someone took over your livelihoods?"

Both men present blushed and lowered their heads. Suddenly a clear female voice spoke up. "Don't blame everyone! The government caused this."

Everyone looked—it was the cross-dressed girl. Realizing everyone's attention, she remembered her disguise and panicked, standing up to flee. Du Wen quickly comforted her, patting her hand with a smile—language did not matter. With another woman nearby, the girl calmed; her face, free of the soot disguise, reddened.

"You must be Xiao Qin—Village Head Tan's daughter." Xi Yazhou offered her a fruit candy. "Don't be afraid—we knew all along you're a girl."

Tan Guihuang smiled apologetically. "She's indeed my brother's child. Though a girl, she's his only child. He treasures her—won't even arrange her marriage—"

Actually, this girl was only about seventeen or eighteen—though in those early-marriage times, that was indeed late. She refused the candy, instead kneeling before Xi Yazhou and kowtowing repeatedly, begging him to help rescue her father and the elders. Du Wen quickly helped her up. Regardless of whether the girl understood, she launched into gender-equality discourse, making Zhang Xingjiao so angry his face reddened; he refused to translate a word.

"Xiao Qin, don't worry. We'll definitely help rescue the arrested villagers." Xi Yazhou never missed chances to show heroic spirit before women—face full of reliable confidence, he patted his chest. "Just tell us about the government issues."

It turned out that after the Wanli 45 earthquake, Ma'ao Salt Field suffered greatly. Salt workers specially submitted a petition requesting exemption or deferral of salt taxes for a few years. Though the salt fields were damaged, production capacity still had some surplus—given three or four years' breathing room, recovery was feasible. But the Gou family had long coveted the salt field. Seizing this opportunity, Gou the Second conspired with familiar county-office clerks, bribed the magistrate's secretary, and suppressed the petition. Gou the Elder then monopolized salt-tax collection—using many runners and thugs to demand daily payments in the salt village. Unable to resist, villagers begged him to pay on their behalf—thus falling step-by-step into his control. The magistrate later noticed something—but local officials' golden rule was never offending local gentry. Salt taxes came in normally; the Gou family kept sending "filial piety"—so things were ignored.

"Bottom line—the government backed him," Xi Yazhou said. "Right?"

"Mm. With government backing, who can touch him?" Xiao Qin looked helpless. "Even if he comes alone, we wouldn't dare do anything. Otherwise—with his men—Brother Chengqing could handle three of them at once."

Xi Yazhou knew they had touched the core. The Gou family's methods were not unusual: simply "government-underworld collusion." Government-merchant collusion, government-underworld collusion, government-bandit collusion—all common social phenomena throughout Chinese history, persisting even into the 21st century. Any successful person, regardless of their path to success, always had official shadows behind them: merchants seeking excess profits, crime bosses seeking safe harbor—all needed official connections. Even supposedly lofty intellectuals knew that official caps held more power than scholarship. The Gou family in Ming Lingao simply followed the same pattern.

Opposing government meant rebellion. Common people did not actually like government authorities perched on their heads—but governments had harsh laws and armies. In modern terms: control over the "violence apparatus." Whether you liked it or not, you had to obey. Even outlaw heroes made "never fight officials" their golden rule. Getting common people to oppose government—regardless of form—equaled "rebellion." Unless at absolute dead ends, people would not take that road. Xi Yazhou was not naive enough to think his speeches could make people throw away their lives for transmigrators' empire-building. His approach was roundabout—perhaps what might be called "curved-line revolution."

"Ultimately, Landlord Gou's arrogance relies on two things: keeping thugs and having government connections." Xi Yazhou smiled slightly. "The first is trivial—once everyone unites, his few people aren't worth a tooth. The key is the second: since he can connect with government, so can we."

The salt-villagers stared at this short-haired "merchant chief"—apparently finding it incredible. After a moment, Tan Guihuang carefully ventured, "Does the Master know official people too?"

"Honestly, no."

"Then how can you connect with government?"

"Why do you think government connects with a local tyrant like him?"

"Obviously for money." Tan Chengqing looked contemptuous.

"Exactly. Since officials are greedy for gold and silver, and he has it—so do we." Then he explained his plan to the salt workers.

Actually, the plan was not complex: first, seize back the salt tax collection franchise. The Gou family holding this had quasi-official status. Without smashing this shield, salt workers would remain terrified. As for how to seize it—salt workers need not worry; they would handle it. Once they regained tax-collection rights, the Gou family would lose any legitimate excuse to interfere with salt-field production. Their only remaining asset would be a decade-old debt mess. Such compound-interest usury—Xi Yazhou understood from the modern era: as long as debtors had any economic capability, creditors would never say you had paid off. So rather than continuing this unclear debt, they should just write everything off—completely default.

Without the tax-collection goldplate, debt disputes became purely civil matters—unrelated to imperial grain-and-taxes. However well-connected the Gou family was with government, officials wanting to help them would not find it easy. By regaining salt-field management rights and no longer being exploited, salt-sales income was guaranteed. If they kept paying salt taxes and county officials' "regulation fees" as usual—government losing nothing publicly or privately—the Gou family's utility would vanish. Without utility, would government still back them?

"It's not that simple." The moment Xi Yazhou finished, Tan Chengqing smiled bitterly. "The Gou family is extremely familiar with county-office clerks and runners—generations of connections, tangled relationships. Just you Masters wanting to collect salt taxes—you couldn't get past the Revenue Section."

Ancient county governance was not really "official rule" but rather "clerk rule." Since the Song Dynasty, county officials were mostly selected through imperial exams. County administrative affairs were extremely tedious—besides various procedures, relevant precedents beyond basic laws were numerous beyond measure. What law or precedent applied to which case could not be found in statutes or regulations. If you made a mistake or superiors found fault—light cases meant rejection, heavy cases meant reprimand—then you would be in trouble. You had to find applicable precedents—ensuring nothing went wrong. But which precedents to find was itself a discipline—called "clerk-craft."

Examination-selected officials could discourse brilliantly on classics and policies, recite Confucian sayings flawlessly—but few understood local-administration techniques. Fish-scale registers alone—outsiders saw ghost-scribbles; those who understood knew they contained land area, location, shape, yield, tax assessment, and owner information. So officials, to avoid mistakes or save trouble, could only entrust everything to office clerks and runners. These lowly-status clerks actually controlled local administrative power in ancient society. Clerks were often hereditary, deeply colluding with local magnates—far beyond what simple economic measures could sever. So Xi Yazhou's plan sounded rather idealistic to them.

(End of Chapter)