Chapter 1852 - Countermoves

News of Gao Tianshi's "sudden death" spread rapidly through Guangzhou. This infamous figure—the "Living Prefect" whom even the gentry feared—had been hale and hearty just days ago, only to succumb abruptly to "acute illness." His death immediately became the talk of every street and alley.

Rumor had it that Gao Tianshi had been "struck by evil." Many recounted in vivid detail how he had supposedly been connected to the Maojia Inn case, how the demonic creatures he had summoned through black magic had turned on him, causing his body to fester and rot until he died in agony.

Naturally, the rumors reached Liang Cunhou's study. Upon hearing the news, he merely smiled faintly and dismissed the servant who had brought the intelligence.

It was already early summer. Outside, sunlight blazed harsh and dazzling. Yet standing before the carved lattice windows of the study, the air remained pleasantly cool—the sun could not penetrate the deep, overhanging eaves, casting only the shadow of the railings across the corridor.

The caged songbirds beneath the eaves had been moved to the depths of the covered walkway to spare them the summer heat. Several maidservants stood in silent attendance along the corridor, still as shadows.

Though still dressed in the braided styles of unmarried girls, most of these maids had long passed the bloom of youth. Two were over thirty, and the head maidservant was a middle-aged woman past forty. Guangdong practiced the custom of gupi—keeping bondmaids unmarried for life—and the Liang household was no exception. Those permitted to attend upon Liang Cunhou were naturally not newly purchased servants.

Seeing the master appear at the window, the head maidservant stepped forward, ready to receive instructions. When he made no sign, she silently withdrew.

Even these high walls and deep courtyards could not make Liang Cunhou feel secure. He sensed that the very foundations beneath his feet were slowly crumbling.

The Australians' upheavals within Guangzhou did not impede him—indeed, one could say they benefited him. The annual "customary silver" he had paid to grease the wheels at every level of the yamens had dropped by several thousand taels. The streets were clean, the roads unobstructed; though he traveled by sedan chair, the sight was refreshing.

But letters arriving from the countryside filled him with a sense of imminent crisis. Stewards from his estates in Nanhai, Panyu, Dongguan, and elsewhere wrote to report that the Australians had begun surveying land boundaries. The vast tracts of "hidden fields" would likely remain hidden no longer.

That was secondary. The crux of the matter was that land surveys would inevitably dredge up the old issue of "dedicated" lands—properties nominally transferred to his family to evade taxes. Rumor had it that the Australians would soon issue new land deeds, following the same policy they had implemented in Hainan and elsewhere: if the original owners of "dedicated" lands did not come forward to clarify matters and re-register their deeds, the former owners' claims would no longer be recognized.

Once this became known, many landlords and rich farmers who had formerly dedicated their properties to the Liang family grew restless. Though no one had yet openly demanded the return of their deeds, there was constant clamor for the Liangs to "find a solution." Some had even come to inquire in person.

Although the Australians had followed Ming precedent for this summer's tax levy and would likely do the same in autumn, the "rectification of land taxes" was clearly imminent.

If he could not devise a countermeasure soon, the Liang estates in every county would quickly disintegrate. This sprawling clan, seemingly flourishing and prosperous, would be a tree without roots the moment tenant rents ceased to flow—it would come crashing down in an instant.

Deep in thought, he was interrupted when Suixue glided silently from the recesses of the study and whispered a few words in his ear. He nodded immediately and turned to walk into the back of the study.

At the rear of the study lay a small archive room, its shelves and cabinets crammed with books. He lightly touched one of the bookcases, and it swung open like a door. He stepped through into a tiny secret chamber. The walls were not plastered but formed of jagged rocks, and the ceiling was thick stone slabs—this room was carved into the belly of the artificial hill behind the study wall.

Inside sat an old man in coarse cloth and wooden clogs: the Wooden Stone Daoist.

Not only had he changed his attire, but his appearance had altered considerably as well. He looked utterly decrepit—the very image of an old peasant worn by years of toil.

"It's not wise for you to come here," Liang Cunhou said, his tone cool. "My household is too prominent. Who knows how many eyes are watching?"

The Wooden Stone Daoist laughed. "Rest easy, young master. However capable the Australians are, surely they cannot peer into the Six-Pulse Channels. This old one traveled here by earth-tunneling."

The Liang mansion had a secret conduit connecting to the Six-Pulse Channels—Guangzhou's network of ancient drainage canals—and Liang Cunhou had heard that the tunnels inside were as wide as streams, navigable by boat. In his youth, driven by curiosity, he had once tried to descend, but the moment the flagstone was lifted, the blackness, filth, and accumulated stench of years were simply unbearable. It was said that in the past, burglars attempting to infiltrate wealthy households through these channels had been killed by the noxious fumes.

That the Wooden Stone Daoist could pass through unhindered was not surprising, given his reputed "occult arts." Liang Cunhou said, "Gao Tianshi is now dead. But Wu Zhiqi has been captured by the Australians—and he knows a great deal..."

"A pity we didn't dispose of him sooner—there were still uses for him! These scheming vermin accomplish nothing and ruin everything!" The Wooden Stone Daoist spat in frustration. "But rest assured, young master. This backwoods ghost-fire Daoist has some skills; he can endure the Australians' severe tortures. Besides, I have extracted his soul-fragment—even if only for the sake of entering the netherworld after death, he will hold out and confess nothing."

Liang Cunhou said, "If that is so, I am relieved. But you are not safe in Guangzhou either, Reverend. It would be best to leave."

"If I leave now, what becomes of the great task entrusted to me by the Stone Elder?" The Wooden Stone Daoist shook his head. "Half the suppression talismans have already been placed in the Six-Pulse Channels. Unfortunately, the ritual implements can no longer be refined, so the formation is only half complete! This, too, is because the Australians' fortune has not yet run out!" He sighed.

Liang Cunhou sighed inwardly as well.

"Though the suppression formation has failed and the Australians' luck is ascendant, this poor Daoist has another stratagem—but it will require your wholehearted assistance, young master."

"By all means, speak."

"When the Stone Elder was in Nanjing, he heard the geomantic master Yun Zhongyue mention that Guangzhou has long harbored the aura of emperors. Though Zhenhai Tower was built and the Horseshoe Ridge excavated to suppress it, the imperial aura has not dissipated. The Australians occupying Guangzhou cannot achieve a true imperial destiny, but carving out a corner and becoming warlords is certainly within their reach. Now that the court faces troubles on all sides and the southeast is the source of tax revenue, we cannot allow the Australians to usurp this place and grow into a regional power. The Stone Elder therefore dispatched me to shatter this city's imperial aura. Master Yun says that White Cloud Mountain to the north is the vital artery of Guangzhou's geomancy. If a canal is dug between White Cloud and Yuexiu Mountains, severing the Horseshoe Ridge, the imperial aura will scatter, and the Australians will never be able to steal our Great Ming's fortune."

Liang Cunhou nodded. Digging a canal was an engineering project—not something a few men could accomplish in secret. It required manpower, resources, and the Australians' permission. This would not be easy.

The Wooden Stone Daoist continued, "Fortunately, the Australians are presently dredging ditches and clearing channels. If someone whom the Australians trust could submit a proposal to excavate the North Moat and connect it with the East Moat Stream, the matter could be accomplished."

Liang Cunhou understood his meaning. "I grasp your intent, Reverend. I shall do my utmost!"

"I understand the difficulty and risk. The Stone Elder has said: he will not forget the danger you shoulder in Guangzhou, and he will certainly repay you in the future!"

"If I coveted peace and riches, why would I make trouble with the Australians?" Liang Cunhou said with a cold smile. "When it comes to connections with the Australians, I am no less positioned than Gao Ju. With a little effort, I could easily become one of Guangzhou's new elite! But I understand the Australians' true aim: they seek to uproot the very foundation of us scholar-gentry! As the saying goes, when the skin is gone, where will the hair attach? The Liang family has received imperial favor for generations—how could we not comprehend this? Rest assured, I will spare no effort."

After seeing off the Wooden Stone Daoist, Liang Cunhou knew this would not be easy. Although the Liang family had long maintained contact with the Australians—even co-sponsoring a charitable hall—by rights they should have been poised to become the hottest "new Australian elite" after the Gao family. Yet ever since He Rubin's ill-fated maritime expedition and the Australians' burning of the Wuyang Relay Station, relations between the Liangs and the Australians had grown distant. Over the past few years, their interaction had been limited to the exchange of condolence letters and ceremonial gifts. After the Australians entered the city, the Liang family had neither sought to curry favor nor responded enthusiastically to invitations. As a result, the relationship had not only failed to recover but had grown even colder.

After the Fangchun Courtyard incident, Liang Cunhou realized that his family was already under Australian "scrutiny." If he personally submitted the proposal, the Australians would view it as "offering flattery for no good reason." And should some geomantic expert among them discern the scheme, he would be bringing eternal ruin upon himself.

So he absolutely could not step forward himself. Someone else was needed—someone the Australians trusted, yet who had no connection to him.

For a moment, he thought of Huang Bingkun. But upon reflection, although Huang despised the Australians with all his heart and had old contacts among them, Huang knew Liang's true anti-Australian stance. If the affair came to light, Huang would never withstand their harsh interrogations.

He racked his brains, and suddenly thought of Wu Ming—a member of the Jade Source Society, quite proficient in "Australian studies." Several of his academy classmates were now employed by the Australians; he was exactly the sort of talent they favored.

Though Wu Ming knew Liang, their acquaintance was shallow. At most, Wu considered Liang merely "averse" to the Australians. Even if the scheme were exposed in the future, Liang could extricate himself.

Most crucially, Liang Cunhou had originally intended to promote the Jade Source Society members. He had planned to arrange for Wu Ming to enter the prefectural school this year and pass the licentiate examination. But with the Australian occupation of Guangzhou, that had all fallen through. Wu Ming remained dejected and nursed a belly full of resentment against the Australians.

Using him to propose the scheme would be an ideal choice. Liang thought to himself: Aren't the Australians about to hold an examination? Then let him go!

(End of Chapter)