Chapter 1726: LĂĽ Yizhong
"I won't see her." Liu Xiang assumed she was probably just coming to beg for mercy and clemency. He had no time for such trivial matters now. "Tell her that we will properly encoffin her family's bodies. Have them settle at the Examination Hall first. When the time is right, we will naturally let them return to their hometown."
He spoke a few more words with the surrendered persons and offered reassurances. He also instructed the clerks and runners of each department to "come for roll call and continue working as usual." After dismissing them, he turned to Wei Bifu: "Old brother, you have turned from darkness to light, and our Senate will naturally not treat you unfairly. I now appoint you as Advisor to the Guangzhou Military Control Commission. Come to work tomorrow—only, I must trouble old brother and your family to stay at Guangxiao Temple for a few days first."
Wei Bifu hastened to stand and said: "Your Excellency's words are too kind. This humble official will definitely serve the Great Song with all my strength, working tirelessly as a dog or horse for Your Excellency."
"Very well, very well. You needn't use this 'Your Excellency' and 'humble official' routine any longer."
"Yes, yes—I respectfully follow your esteemed command."
Wei Bifu withdrew with utmost deference. Liu Xiang was left alone in the private office. Just as he was about to go out to check whether the moving team had arrived, his new personal secretary, Guo Xi'er, walked in.
Guo Xi'er was a younger cousin of Guo Ling'er from a collateral branch of the family. Her family had been taken in to Hainan together with Guo Ling'er's family years ago. Guo Ling'er had entered the Maid School, while Guo Xi'er—being too young—had entered Meadow School. Her grades had been mediocre, hovering near the bottom. After graduating from lower elementary the previous year, she had become a clerk at some agency.
Then her cousin became pregnant and gave birth. Watching the female clerks eye Liu Xiang one by one, Guo Ling'er—determined to secure her position—noticed that her little sister had grown up gracefully and received a "new-style education." An idea formed: In battle you need your father and brothers; in the boudoir, you need sisterly solidarity. Taking advantage of her "contributions" from bearing a daughter—when Liu Xiang's ear was soft but another part hard—she whispered pillow talk for months until she successfully maneuvered her little sister into Liu Xiang's bed. Of course, this was registered at the Administrative Office under the title of "personal secretary." Her name was changed to "Guo Xi'er," and her age written as sixteen—though she was actually only fifteen. Afraid of complications, Guo Ling'er had substituted nominal age for actual age. Liu Xiang, though somewhat aware later, simply accepted the situation. Compared to her elder sister, Guo Xi'er was far more lively—after all, she had received a new-style education from childhood.
"Chief," Guo Xi'er said. Having only recently become a personal secretary, she was still somewhat shy around her master. "A lord from the Ming country has come to visit. This is his card."
Liu Xiang thought that if this were an ordinary Great Ming gentleman rushing to curry favor, there would be no need to meet him immediately. But taking the card and examining it, he saw the visitor was Lü Yizhong. This former secretary to Wang Zunde—captured during the Chengmai Campaign—had been sent back to Guangzhou after his surrender to serve as a "personal secretary" to Guo Yi. He was considered a "Leading Party" figure of long standing. Liu Xiang had already spoken with the External Intelligence Bureau—which managed him—about transferring him to the new Guangzhou Military Control Commission team. Since he was sensible enough to come visiting, he should naturally be received.
"Show him in immediately."
Since the Pearl River Campaign, Lü Yizhong had been stationed in Guangzhou, nominally as Guo Yi's "scribe" but actually serving as a communication channel between Guo Yi and the city's gentry and officialdom. Though despised by scholars and gentry, with the Australians backing him, all officials and gentry humored him and dared not give offense. Only a few hot-headed young scholars had publicly insulted him and even threatened to beat him. After these young men all inexplicably "committed suicide" by drowning or hanging, no one mentioned Lü Yizhong's past anymore. He moved among the gentry and officialdom with increasing ease—handling things Guo Yi couldn't say or do himself. He became quite a significant figure at the Guangzhou Station and throughout the entire city, accumulating considerable wealth. As the Senate's momentum grew, Lü Yizhong no longer felt ashamed of his betrayal and collaboration. He even considered himself "blessed by misfortune."
Yet now he felt both joy and anxiety. Joy that the Senate's King Army had landed—competing for the Central Plains seemed imminent. He himself would be a veteran minister who had followed the dragon northward. Anxiety because Guo Yi had unexpectedly not been appointed as the new Guangzhou Prefect but reassigned to Lingao for "other important duties." In Lü Yizhong's eyes as a veteran bureaucratic insider, this signaled that "Shopkeeper Guo" was falling from favor.
Connecting this to the fact that the Senate's "Chairman Wen" had suddenly become "Guangdong Commissioner" while a Senator surnamed Wang had become "Chairman," Lü Yizhong naturally concluded that Chancellor Wen must have fallen and been "sent out as a Regional Governor." Guo Yi's sudden dismissal at this juncture was obviously because he was Chancellor Wen's man—and Lü Yizhong himself was naturally "Shopkeeper Guo's man." This could be quite bad.
A new day brings new ministers, as the saying went. With Guo Yi removed from office, the new "Chief" would naturally appoint his own team. A week earlier, Lü Yizhong had received notice that a large group of "Northward Expedition Cadres" would be coming to Guangzhou. This made him anxious—compared to the subordinates the Chiefs cultivated themselves, a "surrendered person" like him was already at a disadvantage, let alone being "one of Guo Yi's people." He was simply designated for the cold bench. And if Shopkeeper Guo were further investigated for some "fabricated charge" after returning, and he himself labeled an "accomplice" and thrown into the "Imperial Prison" of the Great Song—that would be very bad indeed. So he had started early seeking connections and finding a new backer. The newly appointed Prefect of the Great Song's Guangzhou was naturally the most suitable candidate.
A few days ago, he had received notice that the Military Control Commission had indeed confirmed his transfer for service there. LĂĽ Yizhong was overjoyed. Today, hearing that Chief Liu had entered the city, he hadn't waited for a summons but came visiting on his own initiative.
He had originally wondered whether he should shave his head and change his clothes before visiting—now that Guangzhou had been "recovered," Guo Yi and his colleagues had all shaved their heads and adopted new attire. As a "guest minister" of the Senate, he should probably make a gesture. But he reasoned that since he hadn't been specifically notified to shave his head and change clothes, it wouldn't be proper to act on his own initiative. Besides, he didn't know how Chief Liu intended to employ him, so it was better to present himself as he was.
Lü Yizhong entered and paid his respects. Liu Xiang knew about this man. Though employed by the Senate, he didn't truly count as a proper "naturalized citizen." He was a "gray figure" in the Senate's personnel system, of the same nature as Sun Kecheng, the chief manager of the Qiwei Escort Agency—a highly useful assistant for the Senate in interfacing with traditional society. For such people, the Senate's policy was "fully employ, but don't fully trust." So Liu Xiang was very polite to him, speaking a few reassuring words, telling him to "work in peace, without concerns." He also mentioned that Guo Yi's departure from office was for "other important duties," hinting that he needn't worry about his future.
LĂĽ Yizhong felt somewhat relieved and couldn't help but feel grateful. He proceeded to declare how he was "wholeheartedly loyal" to the Senate and willing to "dedicate himself completely" to the Senate's great cause. He expressed his willingness to be a "vanguard and running dog" for Liu Xiang, serving him "with all his might."
With those words, he produced a sandalwood box from his bosom and said in a slightly mysterious, lowered voice: "This is a small gift from this humble official to the Chief. Just a token of esteem!"
Liu Xiang waved his hand: "You know our rules. Why do this? I understand your situation. Rest assured."
Lü Yizhong smiled broadly: "This humble official understands the Senate's disciplines and would never dare give offense. This is nothing valuable—just a small curiosity. Though unusual, it's not worth much."
Liu Xiang's curiosity was piqued. Taking the box and opening it, he saw a pair of silver spheres no larger than walnuts. They were intricately carved with openwork patterns. Shaking them gently produced a faint tinkling sound. Though made of silver, they felt very light—at most a few qian of silver. They were indeed not valuable items. He just didn't know their purpose.
"These are called Burmese Bells. Reportedly they originated in Burma. This pair was made by an old, established shop in Guangzhou. The bell tongues inside are made of the finest pearls. They are exquisitely crafted—a wonderful item for the boudoir..."
Liu Xiang had been puzzled about their purpose. Now, with this explanation, he understood. They were Ming Dynasty "intimate accessories." He was both amused and exasperated, and could only say: "Much obliged, much obliged."
LĂĽ Yizhong saw his expression was indifferent and knew he still didn't appreciate the "wonderful uses" of these objects. He continued:
"For bedroom pleasures, this item has the remarkable effect of helping to conceive a son." He lowered his head. "This humble official has heard that the Chief's knee remains empty. May the Chief soon have a son to continue the ancestral line..."
"Thank you for your kind words." Liu Xiang put the box aside. He didn't particularly care about this gift, nor was he especially concerned about having a son. But he quite enjoyed LĂĽ Yizhong's flattery. Even knowing clearly that it was shameless bootlicking, it still felt remarkably good...
"Old Lü," he said—his words now carrying three parts more intimacy—"there's no need for these games. Let's discuss business first. If I were a Ming Prefect coming here to take office, what should I do to make this prefecture enjoy favorable weather, abundant harvests, and prosperous people?"
Hearing this, Lü Yizhong knew his advice was being solicited. He immediately gathered his thoughts and said: "The easiest thing in the world is being an official, and the hardest thing is also being an official. It all depends on the official's intentions and fortune. If one wants simplicity, just employ two capable personal secretaries for legal and financial affairs, maintain good relations with the clerks of the three classes and six departments, stay harmonious with the gentry, and show some conscience in legal cases. After three years in office, one can retire smoothly with at least a middling evaluation—and pocket a few tens of thousands of taels besides."
"What if one wants to accomplish something?"
"Then it depends on the official's skill and ability." Lü Yizhong had himself been a Prefect and had experienced all the nuances of the position. He spoke clearly and cogently: "A local official may be called Lord of a Hundred Li, with power to ruin families and destroy clans, but he remains an outsider—a powerful dragon far from home. Accomplishing anything is genuinely difficult. Building bridges and roads, constructing irrigation, reforming abuses... these are all worthy deeds. Yet whenever one benefit is raised, something else is harmed. Some gain advantage while others lose. The difficulties are truly unspeakable. Only a strong-willed official with real skill can maintain control. But no matter how capable you are, certain people simply cannot be offended. Matters involving them require the utmost caution."
"Oh? Who are they?"
"First, the clerks. They are most treacherous, yet local administration is entirely in their hands. If they act slyly and cunningly, at the very least they can embarrass you; at worst, you'll be dismissed, removed from office, or even lose your life—none of that is uncommon. So no matter how capable a local official is, he must humor them—at minimum, ensuring they don't deceive him."
"Second is the gentry, isn't it?"
"The Chief speaks truly." LĂĽ Yizhong nodded. "As the saying goes, 'In governance, don't offend the great families.' All gentry have connections in the province and at court, and they also wield great influence locally. To govern a prefecture or county peacefully, one cannot afford to offend them. To accomplish anything, one needs to be on even better terms with them."
Local officials actually had very limited funds and grain at their disposal. Accomplishing anything practical invariably required generous donations from local gentry. Even if they didn't donate, at least they shouldn't obstruct—and that alone wasn't easy. There were certainly gentry devoted to public welfare, but there were also plenty of "bad gentry" who exploited their status to harm the locality.
Seeing Liu Xiang listening attentively, Lü Yizhong recounted many things he had witnessed and heard while serving as an official and personal secretary. The various machinations and profound intricacies left Liu Xiang amazed—the art of being an official was truly deep.
Fortunately, he was an official of the Senate. Had he been a lone time-traveler thrust into the Great Ming bureaucracy, he probably couldn't have handled it at all.
LĂĽ Yizhong said: "...The Chief is implementing the Senate's new policies and naturally has plans for sweeping away the old and establishing the new. This humble official's shallow views are probably useless..."
Liu Xiang smiled: "You speak wrongly. Without your explanations, how would I know who the tigers in this Guangzhou Prefecture are?" He thought for a moment. "But there are priorities. We've just entered the city, and there's so much to begin from scratch. I don't know where to start."
Lü Yizhong smiled ingratiatingly: "The Chief surely has strategies in mind already. But in this humble official's view, governance depends most on the art of 'clerk administration.' Only when the clerks are properly managed can you command as easily as using your own arm. Right now, with the Heavenly Army having just recovered Guangzhou—carrying the prestige of victorious campaigns—the gentry families all have homes and businesses and won't openly oppose the Heavenly Army at this juncture. The Chief's governance at this time will surely find them accepting whatever comes. But these clerks, having controlled the locality for years and relying on their family-transmitted secrets, consider manipulating the government their specialty. The Chief must be on guard against them."
These words contained private motives. Lü Yizhong was himself a Juren who had served as Prefect. He harbored a natural aversion to the clerk class—seeming docile but actually insidious, sometimes even biting back. Toward his gentry peers, he naturally felt protective.
Liu Xiang considered this sensible. The gentry held great influence, but at this stage they wouldn't openly oppose the Senate. It was the clerks—the people who directly handled grassroots affairs and faced the commoners—who concerned him. His work in Guangzhou required their assistance, and if mismanaged, it would damage not only the Senate's interests but also the new government's credibility in Guangzhou.
But he didn't want to discuss the handling of clerks too deeply in front of Lü Yizhong. He asked: "I wonder—in this Guangzhou city, which families are the prominent great families?"