Chapter 2061 - Becoming an Insider
How does one cross the threshold from outsider to insider?
The answer, of course, lay in partnership—but opportunity was the gatekeeper. Consider the Zhang family and their walnut pastries, or Chen Liji with his matchless pharmaceutical craft. Gold alone would not suffice. As for acquiring shares in an Executive Committee enterprise—even if such opportunities arose (which they rarely did), He Wei's "Song bloodline" disqualified him from consideration. The nouveau riche circle surrounding Gao Ju had long ago carved up the available stock subscriptions among themselves.
Moreover, share ownership did not confer insider status. To the Executive Committee, wealth merely classified one as a valued customer, a reliable taxpayer. They would pay handsome dividends, certainly, but they would never regard a shareholder as "one of their own." In any case, though the He household lived comfortably, they fell far short of true wealth. A hundred mu of tenant-farmed land in the countryside and several rental properties in the city might seem respectable—yet in Guangzhou, where great households proliferated like fur on a beast, the He family barely registered. Without the twin halos of juren status and membership in the Shawan He clan, they would not even merit inclusion on official rolls.
To become an insider, one had to enter the Executive Committee's inner circle.
Under the Ming, even a commoner could pass the imperial examinations and achieve the legendary ascent: "a farmer at dawn, in the emperor's hall by dusk." A shengyuan degree conferred local standing—even officials and clerks had to show proper deference. A juren degree elevated one into the gentry class. That degree was the passport to the circle.
But this Great Song Executive Committee had materialized from who-knows-where, and the "civil service examination" held in Guangzhou clearly did not count as imperial examinations—it ranked several tiers below the Ming system.
The distinction wasn't simply the gap between "official" and "clerk," but a fundamental difference in the examination's institutional weight. The Guangzhou civil service examination was administered not by the Executive Committee itself but by the Guangzhou Municipal Government. The presiding officer, Liu Xiang, though he held the title of Elder, served merely as Guangzhou Prefect. The successful candidates received local Guangzhou cadre posts. The examination was, unmistakably, municipal in scope.
By contrast, those truly trusted by the Elders were, almost without exception, cadres trained at Fangcaodi. Though young and mostly of modest rank, their status among naturalized citizens was beyond question.
He Wei had gathered considerable intelligence during his time in Lingao—especially regarding Fangcaodi. He'd heard the school's name invoked repeatedly. Nearly all the young cadres in positions of authority had emerged from its gates. They were, genuinely, the Emperor's own disciples.
With Squire He's perspicacity, he naturally understood: this was the Australians' Imperial Academy—or rather, something even more prestigious. After all, the late Ming Imperial Academy's luster had dimmed considerably, its ranks swollen with purchased degrees and opportunistic donations.
Once enrolled at Fangcaodi, one became a "student of the Executive Committee"—He Wei had seen this phrase recurring in the newspapers. Clearly, the fastest route to insider status was through Fangcaodi's doors.
After considerable deliberation, He Wei arrived at his decision: send his children to study at Fangcaodi.
Fortunately, admission was open to all—provided one could pay the tuition and living expenses and possessed an acceptable family background.
Though the Executive Committee harbored an ingrained wariness of old-style scholars, they welcomed the children of such families. Reforming the ossified elders might prove impossible, but the young were still malleable.
Thus, when He Wei tentatively broached the subject, he received an immediate and encouraging response. Zheng Shangjie assured him that children of Guangzhou Chamber of Commerce members would receive "priority admission."
Having secured confirmation, He Wei began deliberating which of his children to send.
He had, it must be said, neither three wives nor four concubines, but he did maintain one wife, one concubine, plus two chamber maids who had borne him children. In total: seven surviving offspring, all minors, both legitimate and illegitimate.
According to Australian doctrine, the ideal enrollment age was six or seven. But sending children so young without personal attendants struck He Wei as unacceptably risky. After much consideration, he settled on his legitimate third son, just turned nine, and his illegitimate second daughter, aged twelve.
Compared to other prominent households—who sent distant relatives' children or, at most, illegitimate offspring to Australian schools—Squire He's decision was nothing short of earth-shattering in Guangzhou society. It also delighted Director Zheng profoundly. Especially when He Wei visited Director Zheng's office and happened to encounter Director Du from Lingao—upon hearing Director Zheng's description of the enrollment arrangement, this Director Du practically effervesced with praise, hailing him as "an enlightened and progressive father."
Squire He genuinely could not fathom what made sending a girl to school "enlightened," much less "progressive." His reasoning had been twofold: first, the daughter could look after her younger brother; second, he'd heard the Australians harbored an almost pathological obsession with female education—bordering on demonic possession. They invariably showered praise upon any parent willing to let daughters study. This was simply strategic flattery.
Hearing Director Du's words confirmed his suspicions exactly. Though He Wei didn't quite grasp the underlying logic, so long as the Australians were pleased, all was well.
Returning home, he ordered the servants to pack and prepare the children for departure.
The second concubine, upon learning that her daughter would not only be spared foot-binding but would wear "uniforms" exposing arms and calves while sitting in the same classroom as a pack of boys, wept for half a month straight—insisting this would ruin the girl's reputation and render her unmarriageable. Most tiresome.
Yet from that point forward, Director Zheng's manner toward him grew markedly warmer. She even "reminded" him in time to dodge the Stamp Tax Case disaster. Squire He reciprocated graciously—not only reorganizing his urban properties into "companies" as the Australians required, but also incorporating his countryside tenant-farmed lands into a company-managed farm overseen by the Tiandihui. Less worry, less effort.
Of course, Squire He's true calculations ran deeper. Everything above was merely about preserving himself and continuing the family line. As a gentry lineage, he understood the paramount importance of power with crystalline clarity. No matter whether the reigning emperor bore the surname Zhu or Zhao, without someone at court, no matter how vast the family fortune, one was merely a fattened pig—or worse, one wouldn't even have the chance to fatten. Since the Australians refused to "share governance with scholar-officials" and trusted only the "Emperor's disciples" they had trained themselves, wasn't the logical course to send offspring to study Australian learning and become Australian cadres? This would secure the He family's position in the new dynasty.
It was Monday. After work, Zeng Juan took his team member Mei Fazhi to collect last week's taxpayer declaration and payment ledger copies from the tax service hall. The collection period was nearing its close, so the hall was relatively quiet. The group of young women clerks, finding themselves short on topics of conversation, spotted the now city-famous hero of the Stamp Tax Case and naturally swarmed around to tease him.
"Not at all, not at all. This success was entirely due to excellent leadership guidance and everyone's support for the task force. I merely followed orders. It's nothing worth mentioning."
"Team Leader Zeng is definitely educated—even his polite deflections sound so refined..."
"Team Leader Zeng, I heard the first tip about the Luo family came from our Sister Nan. Don't you think you should thank Sister Nan properly?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Zeng Juan reflexively started to cup his hands in a formal bow before catching himself mid-gesture—realizing it wasn't appropriate. He adopted the Lingao naturalized citizens' style instead, inclining his head toward Nan Wan'er with a slight bow. "Director Nan, if you hadn't brought the Luo family's stamp tax irregularity to my attention, none of what followed would have been possible..."
"Team Leader Zeng, you're too kind. I was just doing my job..." Nan Wan'er replied coolly.
"Sister Nan... I think you're even more polite than Team Leader Zeng." Liu Cuihua knelt on a stool and wrapped her arms around Nan Wan'er's neck from behind, making a face at Zeng Juan. "Team Leader Zeng, the leaders are about to commend you. Such a great honor—the first ever for our Tax Bureau. I say you really ought to treat Sister Nan to a proper dinner to make it right. There's no class tonight, you know~"
"Cuihua, stop it. Get down." Nan Wan'er pried off Liu Cuihua's arms. "Team Leader Zeng, don't listen to her. She's just a child at heart..."
"..."
"A Juan," team member Mei Fazhi whispered in Zeng Juan's ear. "I also think Director Nan helped you quite a bit. Not showing proper appreciation wouldn't be right."
After a moment's thought, Zeng Juan conceded that Mei Fazhi had a point—a flimsy verbal thank-you truly was inadequate. He promptly expressed his intention to treat Nan Wan'er to dinner as thanks. Seeing she couldn't reasonably refuse, Nan Wan'er scanned the girls around her: "Team Leader Zeng is treating—who's coming?"
"Sister Nan, he's inviting you. Why are you calling us? Am I right?"
"Though Australian light bulbs are bright, you can't just light them anywhere, anytime."
"Hahahaha!" The room erupted in laughter, leaving Nan Wan'er's face flushed crimson.
"Team Leader Zeng, I appreciate the thought, but I'd better not go..."
"Oh come on, Sister Nan—I'll come with you! Team Leader Zeng doesn't mind one more freeloader, right?" Just as Nan Wan'er was about to decline, Liu Cuihua suddenly interjected.
"..." Nan Wan'er thought to herself: you little glutton! But this gave Zeng Juan an opening to insist:
"That would be even better. Director Nan, if there's nothing special tonight, it's settled then."
The sun still hung well above the horizon when Zeng Juan arrived early at the restaurant. Though he'd never dined here, if it met Zhang Yu's standards, it couldn't be too poor. This restaurant had originally been the flagship property of the Lin family: Zhanxiang Lou. Built along the water with carved beams and painted rafters, part of the structure jutted out over the river like a pavilion. On autumn evenings, drinking wine in the breeze with the current flowing beneath one's feet felt almost transcendent.
After Lin Zunxiu and his father were hanged, Ziming Tower had taken over the establishment. Not only was the refined literary name "Zhanxiang Lou" changed to the far earthier "Mi Xiang Ju" (Rice Fragrance House), but prices had dropped by more than half—at least enough that someone like Zeng Juan, drawing a government salary, could, with some teeth-gritting, afford a decent table. Besides, Ziming Tower's reputation was such that for people with official positions like themselves, it was frankly somewhat inappropriate. This Rice Fragrance House, on the other hand—if Zeng Juan hadn't been working at the Tax Bureau and possessed certain inside information, he would have assumed, like everyone else, that it was government property of the Guangzhou administration. This made it far more suitable for entertaining guests.
(End of Chapter)