Chapter 449 - Autumn Levy (Part 4)
Zhou Botao picked up a case file that had just been placed on his desk—locally manufactured at Zhou Dongtian's paper factory, composed of coarse yellow paper that sat weighty in his hands. He opened the cover to discover page after page of personal dossiers, each with a photograph attached. These were the profiles of the grain runners who had attended the recent meeting; their background investigations had just been completed.
Qiuhong's house had long been under Action Division surveillance, but since guards were posted around it, installing listening devices had proven impossible. Zhou Botao hadn't arranged for anyone to approach using a peddler disguise either—that would have been far too conspicuous. In a rural residence devoid of commercial activity, a cluster of peddlers would obviously arouse suspicion. Instead, he had arranged for long-range observation with binoculars.
Now they had identified the complete roster and backgrounds of every grain runner in Lingao County. Zhou Botao intended to study this assembly carefully to determine if there was anyone he could exploit—or, alternatively, if the decision was simply to "eliminate" them. That would depend on the Executive Committee's wishes.
Zhou Botao turned to the final pages containing materials on Zhou Qi. He was keenly interested in Chen Minggang's senior apprentice, for the investigation had revealed that the master harbored strong suspicions about something unclear between Zhou Qi and his mistress—though he had never found proof.
Zhou Botao took particular interest in rumors of romantic entanglement. Based on his experience as a detective, once whispers of romantic scandal reached a certain threshold, the matter was usually genuine. It resembled how, when a wife first suspected her husband of infidelity, investigation nearly always confirmed that something had indeed occurred.
He summoned Wu Xiang and handed over the file. "Go investigate Zhou Qi."
"Eighth Master's apprentice?" Wu Xiang's expression betrayed a trace of fear.
Zhou Botao regarded him with displeasure. "What—are you frightened of him?"
Wu Xiang swallowed. "No."
"Good." Zhou Botao's tone hardened. "You're our man now. What is there to fear about some 'Eighth Master' or 'Ninth Master'? Find out everything about Zhou Qi. From this moment forward, keep him under constant surveillance. Report his every movement to me—I want to know precisely when he relieves himself and when he goes to sleep. Understood?"
"Yes, understood."
The answer was acceptable enough. Watching Wu Xiang's departing figure, Zhou Botao allowed himself a contemptuous look. This fellow was supposed to bear a blood feud, someone who hated the old society with burning passion. He had performed quite admirably in school, displaying a powerful sense of grievance. Yet the moment he commenced actual fieldwork, he revealed no courage whatsoever. When confronting county yamen personnel or local strongmen, he still unconsciously slipped into a kind of servile deference.
"It seems hatred isn't the universal panacea after all," Zhou Botao muttered. He picked up a written order, opened it, glanced at its contents, and rang a bell to summon his orderly.
"Fetch the leader of the Special Propaganda Team. Yes—immediately."
After Chen Minggang paid his respects to Xiong Buyou and received tacit approval, he threw himself into the work with genuine earnestness. Besides the customary posting of proclamations and distribution of "grain notices"—essentially payment demand slips—by the county yamen, he also gathered his disciples and subordinates to establish collection stations in front of the county granary.
The first phase of grain collection naturally involved waiting for the grain households to come and pay voluntarily. Only after this phase concluded would they enter the stage of actively enforcing collection in the villages. But this year, Chen Minggang ordered all the grain runners to venture into the countryside and vigorously spread news of the "land survey."
In no time at all, word that the Australians intended to "conduct a land survey" had spread throughout the county, throwing major and minor grain households alike into panic.
The gentry naturally wanted nothing to do with a land survey. No matter how corrupt and inefficient the existing system might be, they had already reached an accommodation with it. As long as they paid a certain price as "lubricant," they could do as they pleased within the system. Now a new force had arrived that actually intended to re-survey all the farmland and re-register property ownership—this struck like a bolt from the blue. The grain households immediately grew anxious. Then, from the mouths of grain runners who had gone out to the countryside, they received confirmation: the Australians not only intended to collect grain this time but also to conduct a land survey first and levy grain based on acreage.
The grain households hastened to dispatch agents everywhere to gather intelligence. Indeed, both the county seat and the East Gate Market buzzed with discussion of the matter, with people speaking as though they possessed firsthand knowledge. Chen Minggang's crowd of hangers-on strutted about with self-important airs. Yet strange counter-rumors also emerged, claiming none of this was true—that Chen Minggang and his gang were merely invoking the Australians' name to frighten people.
Everyone rushed to Zhang Youfu seeking confirmation. But he could offer no definitive answer either. Zhang Youfu explained that Chief Wu, who oversaw the grain levy, had "departed on a long journey," and no one was available to respond. Zhang Youfu himself was somewhat startled by these developments, but remembering Wu De's earlier instructions, he sensed something deeper was unfolding behind the scenes. He dared not speak carelessly. He immediately traveled to Bairren City to request an audience with Chuyu and reported the situation.
Of course, he received no response from Chuyu either. Zhang Youfu stood in the courtyard of his own residence, studying the "grain notice" that a runner had just delivered, and furrowed his brow for several long minutes. Suddenly, something clicked into place, and he began to understand.
Liu Youren sat upon a bamboo couch beneath the steps of his main courtyard, smoking a dry tobacco pipe. Wisps of blue smoke curled lazily upward. On a bamboo table sat a teapot, teacups, and a sheet of coarse mulberry paper—the "grain notice."
The grain notice was a collection demand slip. The government hadn't originally employed such instruments; it possessed only grain tallies—collection receipts. This was something the yamen clerks had devised independently: sheets of extremely coarse mulberry paper, pre-printed with stamps and formatted spaces for clerks to record the grain household's name and the amounts of base grain and tribute rice owed. Once a household received this slip, it was required to pay by the deadline. The deadlines were divided into first, second, and third terms. After the third term passed, collection entered the "dunning phase," whereupon delinquent households would be hauled to the yamen and subjected to flogging every three or five days, or else pilloried in public.
In practice, this was mostly bluster. Those who actually suffered the yamen's beatings and the cangue were defenseless, isolated small grain households—people like Zhang Xingjiao had once been. Any grain household with the slightest local influence would never be treated this way. Some were village rogues who, though lacking political power, were hardened characters willing to fight and kill. If they refused to pay the full levy, they would send some able-bodied kinsman to accept the punishment in their stead, bribe the bailiffs a little, and endure a performance of flogging. They would toughen it out until the New Year, find someone to post bail for their release, and consider the year's accounts settled. Grain households of even higher standing could haggle directly with the runners and clerks over precisely how much tribute rice they would pay. The truly powerful ones paid nothing beyond the base quota. As for the gentry and strongmen, most had concealed vast amounts of land, and basically contributed nothing at all—even when the yamen knew, it could only look the other way.
The Liu family had once been local strongmen from Jialai. After Liu Youren purchased himself a jiansheng degree, they had become "gentry." His family's registered land holdings amounted to less than four hundred mu, but in reality they possessed nearly two thousand. And the land "falsely registered" under the Liu family name exceeded three thousand mu more.
Beyond the four hundred mu of registered paddy fields they worked using hired farmhands, none of their other land had ever contributed a single grain in taxes.
Liu Youren had previously approached the Australians employing the same strategy he used against bandits: on one hand, fortify the stronghold and train militia for self-defense; on the other, humor them—if they wanted some benefit, accommodate within his means and purchase peace. After all, this region had operated thus since his grandfather's time.
But after attending the Political Consultative Conference and witnessing the Baldies' power firsthand, his thinking had shifted. Liu Youren realized that simply humoring them as he had dealt with bandits would lead only to losses. The strength and conduct the Australians had demonstrated suggested they harbored vast ambitions—ambitions unlikely to be satisfied by Lingao alone.
Such ambitions were certainly not something a rural strongman like himself could possibly obstruct. If the Liu family wished to survive in Lingao and avoid sharing Gou Family Manor's fate, they would need to be more proactive. At minimum, that would secure their self-preservation.
Therefore, though he seldom visited the East Gate Market, he actually maintained close watch over the Australians' every move. The moment the Tiandihui was established, he joined. His decision had startled the Liu family elders at the time, provoking strong opposition—how could they reveal the family's true situation to the Australians? Even if they reported only the officially taxed acreage, the Australian agricultural technicians were no fools; after a few visits for "technical guidance," they would surely deduce the reality.
Liu Youren patiently persuaded them: even if he didn't join, did they imagine the Australians would remain ignorant of how much land the Liu family actually held? That was hardly a secret in the county. Naturally, someone eager to curry favor would report it. Rather than waiting for them to come knocking, engaging with them first would facilitate maneuvering.
After joining the Tiandihui, agricultural technicians came to help him make compost, deliver seedlings, and instruct his farmhands on cultivation. Their earnestness far exceeded Liu Youren's expectations. He couldn't comprehend why the Australians would exert themselves so—if they merely wanted to collect "service fees," a simple order to the liaison officer would ensure every village paid up. Why bother with such laborious nonsense?
Just as he puzzled over this, the grain-levy contracting affair had left him even more bewildered. He found himself utterly unable to fathom the Australians' thinking.
His gaze fell once more upon the grain notice. The columns for base quota and tribute rice amounts stood blank. The grain runner who delivered it had explained that according to orders from the Australian masters, this levy would be accompanied by a "land survey." Each household was required to report its land holdings before the first deadline, and grain would be levied based on the new acreage figures.
"Eighth Master says this is the Australians' first time contracting the grain levy in this county. Each household had better contribute a little and report more accurate land figures—don't provoke them." The grain runner who came had smirked insincerely. "This way everyone can get by, and those of us carrying out orders can render a proper accounting."
(End of Chapter)