Chapter 1958 - The Director of the Finance and Tax Bureau
This bumpy history of mechanical computer development had consumed roughly ten months from start to finish, and the difficulties involved were truly beyond words for Feng Nuo. However, accompanying him to Guangzhou now was the officially finalized "Zu Chongzhi Model." Zu Chongzhi was an ancient mathematician who also possessed considerable expertise in mechanics, and his name contained the character "Zu" (ancestor)—using it to name this mechanical computer was quite fitting.
The "Zu Chongzhi Mark I" represented a significant improvement over the prototype. Thanks to technological upgrades and material advances at the machinery factory, the relay workshop could now produce superior relays compared to what Feng Nuo had manually manufactured earlier, and some mechanical mechanisms had also been optimized. So the first batch of several machines was not only significantly smaller than the prototype, but also boasted greatly improved functionality and computational speed. It no longer resembled the prototype's clumsy appearance.
The first batch consisted of six complete systems. Besides two sets allocated to the Judicial Province's Labor Reform Administration and the Political Security Bureau's Archives Department for experimental use, all were delivered to the newly established "South China Data Center" in Guangzhou.
Apart from two desktop servers that had been reassigned there, this data center relied entirely on these four sets of mechanical computers.
Though the equipment looked crude and operated slowly, for Ai Zhixin—the Guangdong Region Tax Commissioner concurrently serving as Director of the Guangzhou Municipal Finance and Tax Bureau—it solved his urgent needs.
What he managed was finance and taxation, and the formulation of tax policies couldn't be separated from detailed statistics on total economic volume, total currency circulation, and various other aspects. The problem was that up until now, these remained a mystery to him. The data collected by various departments hadn't been aggregated, classified, or tallied—it was no different from waste paper. And the archives accumulated by Ming government offices at all levels lacked sufficient professional personnel to organize them. Even in the old timeline, clearing hundreds of years' worth of massive archives wouldn't be easy. So apart from some "customary old rules" known to veteran clerks, there was basically no reference value.
Thus, when Feng Nuo and Xu Laowu arrived, he was the most delighted and enthusiastic of all. From meeting them at the dock to helping them settle into the internal guesthouse at Da Shijie, he fussed over them the entire way, making both of them quite embarrassed. They could only express that they would "do their utmost" to run the South China Data Center well.
Although the civil construction work for the South China Data Center was entering its final stages, the subsequent interior renovation, equipment installation and debugging, and personnel training would require at least three or four months before it could be put into actual use. However, Xu Laowu had already promised that he, Feng Nuo, and the naturalized citizen operators they'd brought would first set up equipment at Da Shijie and put it into actual operation.
"Get some good rest first. Tomorrow I'll take you to the data center construction site on Henan Island."
After Ai Zhixin had them settled, he went out and got into a sedan chair. Liu Xiang's "Dig Everywhere" project had been delayed several months because of the plague, and was only now resuming. Official horse-drawn carriages still weren't available, so he could only continue using the not-so-comfortable sedan chair.
From the Great East Gate of Guangzhou to Da Shijie was a mere two kilometers. Taking the sedan chair would require over forty minutes; the small train would take only a few minutes.
Because of the witchcraft case, Liu Xiang and Wu Mu had jointly issued a memorandum requiring transmigrators in Guangzhou not to walk on city streets or use public transportation unless they had sufficient guards. Ai Zhixin had originally intended to take the small train from Da Shijie to the Great East Gate, but because of this notice he could only continue riding the sedan chair. Still, the sedan chair had its benefits—it blocked out the various foul smells and flies on Guangzhou's streets. Though the sedan chair wasn't bulletproof, being hidden inside provided at least some security.
The group walked briskly along the small train tracks outside the Great East Gate and arrived at the gate. The National Army squad leader responsible for the Great East Gate guard was a corporal of Japanese mercenary origin named Hinata Naruto. He approached to inquire: "Please provide transportation documents or identification for registration."
The accompanying guard produced the relevant documents. Hinata Naruto examined them and asked, "Who is in the sedan chair?"
"It's the Director of the Municipal Finance and Tax Bureau," the guard said.
"Please have him show his face," said Hinata Naruto. "That's the regulation."
Since it was regulation, there was nothing more to say. The guard was about to lift the curtain when a voice from inside suddenly spoke:
"Hinata Naruto desu ka? Shigoto wo chūjitsu na!" (Is that Hinata Naruto? Loyal to your work!)
Hearing this Japanese, Hinata Naruto immediately knew this was a transmigrator. The Japanese spoken by transmigrators was quite different from actual Japanese—it had a peculiar Edo accent, and the word choice and phrasing were also different.
He immediately snapped to attention and replied: "GenrĹŤin no ongi no tame ni." (For the sake of repaying the Executive Committee's kindness.) He then returned the documents, saluted, and let them pass. The National Army soldiers on both sides performed a present-arms salute together.
Ai Zhixin watched these soldiers through the gauze curtain of his sedan chair, his heart filled with mixed emotions.
There was the satisfaction of a man who had achieved success and made a name for himself, but also anxiety about the future.
With great power comes great responsibility. The heavy burden of Guangzhou's finance and taxation wasn't easy to bear. Thinking about how these soldiers actually relied on tax revenue for their support, Ai Zhixin felt the pressure even more heavily.
Upon returning to the Finance and Tax Bureau office set up in the Salt Administration Office, he removed his outer coat and handed it to Ai Yixin. This coat was an unmarked Fubo Army northern winter short trench coat, purchased from the Joint Logistics Clothing Warehouse—warm and moisture-resistant, quite useful in Guangzhou during the Little Ice Age.
Underneath he wore his work uniform: several sets of Fubo Army officer uniforms without rank or insignia, custom-made from Hong Huangnan's Special Supply Store No. 82.
When Ai Zhixin first entered Guangzhou, he had naively worn a suit that he often wore while working at the Finance Ministry in Lingao—a "yuppie" style. But he found that the tax bureau personnel didn't buy into his refinement, and some retained old clerks even thought his outfit was bizarre. Behind his back they said he was wearing clothes from the foreigners in Macau, and that the Australians were trying to transform Chinese culture with barbarian ways. Ai Zhixin thought these locals didn't understand what "white-collar style" meant or what "suit and tie" was—they were all bumpkins.
Since the bumpkins didn't appreciate it, and also to save his old-world clothes for formal occasions—as a tall man at 193 centimeters, Ai Zhixin's clothes all required special care, otherwise he'd have to wear split-crotch pants or worn-out suits—he switched to wearing the military uniform. What he hadn't expected was that the custom-made uniform was not only comfortable to wear, but also gave his words more deterrent power and weight at the tax bureau. Additionally, though he didn't know it, even his safety coefficient when going out had improved because he wore the military uniform.
Ai Yixin placed the visitor log before him, with each entry recording who had come looking for him while he was away and what specifically they wanted. He looked through it—most were subordinates consulting on various issues. No transmigrators had come looking for him. However, Liu Gang, the Executive Committee's old partner, had visited and left a letter.
Since the early days when Liu Gang had sold illicit salt for the Executive Committee, his business had grown ever larger over the years, and his ties with the Executive Committee had become increasingly close. After Guangzhou's liberation, Ai Zhixin planned to "recruit" the private salt distribution network under his control, making it the sales network for the Monopoly Bureau.
The letter was in the "incoming" document basket. It wasn't even 9 AM yet, but documents that had come in from last night to this morning had already piled up to a dozen or so.
Having been in Guangzhou for several months now, he had roughly understood Guangzhou's commerce and tax situation. Although lacking specific data support, he had grasped much of the general situation. The previous few months, due to the witchcraft case and the plague epidemic, financial and tax work had ground to a halt. He had no choice but to focus his energy on foundational work: establishing the basic framework of the finance and tax system, training tax cadres... Now it had barely taken initial shape.
Although he had proposed the "self-reporting with actual payment, light taxes with heavy penalties" model for collection before coming to Guangzhou, due to the lack of qualified inspection cadres and the chaotic state of merchants' accounting records, actual collection was far from ideal. Some more complex taxes he hadn't dared to launch hastily—if collection went wrong, future adjustments would face significant backlash.
He faced the core problem that all tax officials must confront: how to collect more taxes while controlling collection costs.
Collecting more taxes wasn't actually difficult—tax categories were something that since ancient times had reflected governments' achievements in imagination and creativity. The key lay in collection.
In theory, as long as sufficient personnel were deployed, sound institutions were established, and strict accounting systems were implemented, it could be done. But all these investments consumed tax collection costs. The more tax categories and the broader the tax base, the more collection costs would rise geometrically. At best this consumed the revenue from taxation; at worst it could cause serious damage to the tax base itself.
Moreover, his current situation simply didn't have these conditions. So his taxation approach prioritized "low cost" and "easy collection."
Under this premise, he had recently formulated a Guangdong collection plan centered on three major tax categories: property tax, circulation tax, and stamp duty.
He had already drafted related plans for the specific collection of these three major taxes. Now they had been further refined.
Property tax would be collected annually at a rate not exceeding one percent of the taxable party's total property value.
Because of the lack of account books, the plan called for tax personnel to estimate the target's total property on a household basis, reassessed every five years. Estimates could be on the higher side. If the taxed party could provide complete evidence proving their property had been overestimated, they could receive a refund for the excess, and the next tax collection would be based on the party's actual property.
Encouraging this administrative review system aimed at tax refunds was intended to encourage each taxable party to clarify their own accounting information and help promote modern accounting systems. While taxpaying households thoroughly clarified their own property, the Executive Committee could also clearly grasp the social wealth situation, facilitating control over the wealthy minority. At the same time, good dissemination of accounting information in society could better facilitate social management and enterprise management.
(End of Chapter)