Chapter 2562 - Seeking Help
Nature's call waits for no meeting. Zhang Xiao had consumed several cups of tea during the proceedings, and by the time Liu Xiang launched into his lengthy speech, his bladder was screaming for relief. The moment the meeting adjourned, he bolted for the toilet.
"Ah, sweet mercy." After emptying his bladder, Zhang Xiao shuddered with pleasure, sighing toward the ceiling. He fastened his belt and sauntered out to wash his hands. "I'll say this for Old Liu—the toilet standards here are quite decent. The man really does care about education."
His orderly smiled. "This is the National Model School, sir—the face of Guangzhou City. Mayor Liu puts great emphasis on it."
Zhang Xiao noted approvingly that this orderly was perceptive. He strode toward the exit, but stopped short at the doorway, startled by what he saw.
A figure in Ming dynasty attire knelt at the entrance to the men's toilet. Despite the large cap, the person's features were remarkably delicate—almost like a woman dressed in men's clothing.
"Good heavens, what's this? Have I stumbled into the classic 'stopping the sedan to plead for justice' scene?" In an instant, Zhang Xiao's mind raced through countless period dramas he'd watched. A local bully covets a poor family's beautiful daughter and demands her for himself. The girl, already betrothed to her sweetheart, refuses unto death. The bully conspires with corrupt officials, driving her parents to their graves and murdering her lover. Just when all hope seems lost, an upright new county magistrate arrives to assume office. The girl escapes, intercepts his sedan procession, and pleads for justice. The magistrate, burning with righteous fury, outmaneuvers the bully through cunning stratagem, ultimately bringing the villain to justice and winning the beauty's heart. The only flaw in this particular tableau was the location—outside the men's toilet would make for rather unseemly reading in any future biography.
The orderly reacted swiftly, stepping forward to shield Zhang Xiao. "Who are you? Why are you blocking the way?"
"This humble commoner is Zhang Jiayu. My mother lies gravely ill, her life hanging by a thread. I beg the Chief to show mercy and save her." He pressed his forehead to the ground in a deep kowtow.
This "sedan-stopper" was indeed Zhang Jiayu. He and his society friends had deliberated at length over how to petition. Requesting a formal audience was out of the question—he was merely an ordinary licentiate, not some distinguished local scholar or worthy. Nine times out of ten, he'd be turned away at the door. His only option was to intercept Chief Zhang when the man stepped out.
But timing required careful thought. Approaching the Chief in full public view might create moral pressure, compelling Zhang Xiao to agree for the sake of popular sentiment. Yet this approach risked provoking the Elder's displeasure—or worse, getting arrested as an assassin by security before even seeing the Chief's face, achieving the opposite of his intentions.
After much deliberation, waiting here at the Academy for a moment when fewer people were around seemed the wisest course.
Hearing the voice, Zhang Xiao grumbled inwardly: "Damn, it's a man. We really do need to enforce those naturalization haircuts. Zhang what-jade? Wait—Zhang Jiayu!"
Recognition dawned. This was none other than the historically famous Zhang Jiayu. Zhang Xiao had read the relevant historical materials, and Li Zhuoxian had briefed the city government on the "Three Loyalists of Lingnan." He waved off the orderly. "It's fine. Let him follow me."
Zhang Jiayu hadn't expected the new County Magistrate to be so approachable. Hope surged in his chest as he rose and followed them to the Education Bureau office.
Inside, Zhang Xiao gestured for Zhang Jiayu to take a seat, but the young man dropped to his knees once more.
Zhang Xiao found this tiresome. He was sick of reciting the usual platitudes about how "in Great Song we don't do this," so he simply said: "A man's knees are worth their weight in gold. Get up."
"No, Chief—I beg you to save my mother!" Zhang Jiayu insisted.
Zhang Xiao had no patience for the stubborn convictions of these ancients. "Fine, kneel if you must. But if your mother is gravely ill, why come to me instead of seeking medical treatment?"
"My mother is seriously ill, and medicines have proven ineffective. I read in the newspapers that the Chief goes by the nickname 'Medicine Master,' so I came specifically to beg for your help."
Zhang Xiao thought to himself that Liu Xiang's advertising was remarkably effective—it had been only a few days and already customers were arriving at his door.
"Tell me the details."
Zhang Jiayu recounted the whole story. Zhang Xiao had encountered more than a few cases of natives or naturalized citizens seeking medicine like this, so he had some familiarity with symptoms and conditions. He questioned Zhang Jiayu closely about the specifics.
When he heard that an itinerant doctor had provided two yellowish-brown tablets and that her condition had improved after taking them, Zhang Xiao's interest sharpened. Native medicines came in pills, powders, pastes, and decoctions—it was absolutely impossible to manufacture tablet formulations using traditional methods.
"Yellowish-brown tablets? What was the price? Where is this doctor now?"
Zhang Jiayu grew uneasy, fearing he might inadvertently reveal information about that day's gathering. He answered evasively: "Reporting to the Chief, I paid one tael of silver. The man was a traveling doctor with a bell. He's gone now—whereabouts unknown. If I could find him again and obtain this medicine, I wouldn't dare trouble the Chief."
Looks like oxytetracycline tablets that leaked out through some channel, Zhang Xiao thought. I'll need to investigate this properly. He remembered Jin Zhijiao mentioning that the inventory accounts at the Danzhou pharmaceutical factory "had problems."
At the time, he'd been in a hurry to take up his post, and he trusted the staff he'd personally trained, so he hadn't given it much thought. Truthfully, some leakage was inevitable—making it so that not even a single pill could slip through was impossible now, and even the old timeline with its most advanced management systems and technology couldn't achieve it either.
But learning that medicine was being sold in Guangzhou demanded his attention. Zhang Xiao stroked his small mustache thoughtfully. Setting aside the drug leakage situation for now, there was the matter of Zhang Jiayu's mother. If she had ordinary pneumonia, treatment would be straightforward. But if it was tuberculosis—that would require continuous treatment with multiple antibiotics for over six months, and several first-line drugs like isoniazid and rifampicin couldn't be produced yet. The Senate's antibiotics were mostly produced in batches at the Danzhou Pharmaceutical Factory. He knew the prices by heart: besides the internal transfer price supplied to publicly-funded medical care, commercial drugs at market rates meant only wealthy tycoons like Gao Ju could afford tuberculosis treatment.
With his connections in the medical sector, arranging something wouldn't be difficult—but he'd inevitably owe other Elders a significant favor. Moreover, quite a few Elders in the Senate were averse to collecting historical celebrities like rare specimens.
Zhang Xiao, being a hands-on technical person, was rather practical and didn't believe in overstating things. "Your matter could be simple, or it could be difficult. But you and I are complete strangers. I need a reason to help you."
Zhang Jiayu understood the County Magistrate was naming his price. Money was out—though not destitute, his family wasn't wealthy, and the Australians had built their nation on industry and commerce. They didn't need his few coins. Reputation was equally useless—his most distinguished status was merely a Ming dynasty licentiate, hardly anyone of consequence. Helping him wouldn't earn a "ten-thousand-people umbrella" of gratitude—at most, just Zhang Jiayu's own tearful thanks. As for talent—the Australians recruited through civil service examinations regardless of what degree you held, showing no interest in former dynasty literati like himself. And he wasn't some peerless beauty...
Could it be... He looked with sudden trepidation at the mustachioed Zhang Xiao, a vague unease creeping over him.
Zhang Xiao had been wearing a half-smile, but noticing the young scholar's eyes fill with fearful alarm, he realized his expression must look rather unsettling—carrying distinct implications of surely you wouldn't want such-and-such. He quickly composed himself, adopting a serious demeanor. "Give me a reasonable justification, and I'll help you."
Zhang Jiayu relaxed, seeing the solemn expression. After much thought, he realized that only by offering to help this new County Magistrate govern effectively might he be able to move him. "This humble commoner's family has lived in Dongguan for generations. I am well-acquainted with the popular sentiment in Guangzhou. Though untalented, I associate with bold men of the greenwood, and I am reasonably lettered. If the Chief doesn't find me beneath consideration, I am willing to serve at your command."
Zhang Xiao pretended to deliberate. The analysis materials from relevant departments had indicated that among the "Three Loyalists," Zhang Jiayu was the one most likely to prove useful to the Senate—given the right opportunity. That opportunity had arrived; he might as well do the young man a favor and let events take their course.
But as the saying goes, the more easily something is obtained, the less it's treasured. Zhang Xiao didn't want Zhang Jiayu to think that asking Elders for favors was a trivial matter. He needed to understand exactly how heavy this favor was. "Young man, do you know what you're asking for?"
"Medicine," Zhang Jiayu said.
Zhang Xiao shook his head. "Not medicine—life itself. The right to survive. At any given moment, countless people in this world need the same medicine, but production is limited. If someone else uses it, you cannot. If you use it, someone else cannot. How do you think it should be distributed?"
The words pierced through Zhang Jiayu's defenses. He fell silent, understanding now that what he sought might not seem priceless to Australian chiefs—but to others who sought it just as desperately, it meant the difference between life and death.
Zhang Xiao continued: "Every society must decide who eats roast suckling pig and who eats dirt. Who rides in a Red Flag sedan and who rides a donkey cart. The teachings of all the Hundred Schools of Thought revolve around one core question: how should scarce resources be distributed? Daoists advocate that everyone eat dirt—or at least ensure the common people know nothing else exists. Confucians advocate hierarchical distribution from top to bottom—whatever class you're born into determines your share. Everything becomes predictable; whether eating roast pig or dirt, everyone accepts their lot with equanimity. Legalists advocate 'from each according to ability, to each according to work'—performance-based compensation. Buddhists advocate not competing in this life, accepting everything with submission, and in the next life you'll enjoy unlimited resources." He paused. "Since you've read the classics and histories extensively, you know that the governing principles of all dynasties amount to nothing more than 'Confucian on the outside, Legalist on the inside,' mixed with dashes of Daoism and Buddhism. What the great Confucians preach about 'heavenly principles and human desires'... 'extending good conscience'... mouths full of benevolence and righteousness..." He gave a cold laugh. "Heh."
Zhang Jiayu had read his share of Australian books, but he'd never heard such an interpretation. He couldn't help feeling shocked—not because the insight was particularly earth-shattering, but because of the Elder's attitude.
(End of Chapter)