Chapter 235: Corrupt Practices

“However, the official rice for the capital’s granaries doesn’t all need to be delivered to the capital,” Wang Zhaomin explained. In the early Hongwu era, the autumn grain truly had to be transported thousands of li to the capital. This task was the responsibility of the “grain chiefs” within the lijia system. The cost in manpower and resources was immense, and grain chiefs often went bankrupt because of this burden.

Later, to accommodate local needs and reduce transportation losses, it was stipulated that only a portion of the money and grain would be sent to the capital. Some would be directly allocated to where it was needed within the prefecture, and another portion would be stored in Qiongzhou Prefecture for backup, though it would still be recorded in the Ministry of Revenue’s books.

“That is indeed much more convenient,” Wu De nodded. If it was delivered to Qiongzhou Prefecture, whether by land or sea, the distance was short. Even by Ming dynasty standards, it shouldn’t be too difficult.

“How could it be so easy!” Wang Zhaomin shook his head. In his more than ten years as an advisor, he had never seen a county where collecting and delivering taxes was an easy matter. He couldn’t resist showing off his expertise a bit—for some reason, Wang Zhaomin was finding the Australians’ opinion of him increasingly important.

“Of the official rice quota for the capital, 1,579.19 shi is allocated for the military provisions of Changhua, and 2,181.925 shi is for the provisions of the prefectural government’s soldiers. So, the county has to deliver grain to five places: Qiongzhou Prefecture, Changhua County, Danzhou, Wanzhou, and Lingshui County. The expenses for shipping and receiving are countless.” Wang Zhaomin put on an expression of concern for the nation and its people. “It is a great disturbance to the populace!”

We have to go to Changhua too? Wu De thought. That was convenient. Since the establishment of Fort Changhua and Fort Yulin after their circumnavigation of the island, they had opened a regular shipping route around the island. Transporting grain to Changhua would be a piece of cake.

“Why do we also need to go to Danzhou, Wanzhou, and those places?”

“Because those places have prefectural granaries.”

The official granaries of Qiongzhou Prefecture were not all located in the prefectural city. In the Ming dynasty, Qiongzhou Prefecture had five granaries. Those located in other counties included the Guangji Granary in Wanzhou and the Nanfeng Granary in Lingshui, among four others.

These dispersed grain storage locations were mostly in strategically important areas, especially places with a risk of “Li rebellion,” so that in the event of war, grain could be sourced nearby for military campaigns.

The unpolished rice owed by each county had to be transported to these granaries for delivery. Wang Zhaomin said that Lingao had to deliver one thousand shi to Danzhou, one thousand two hundred to Wanzhou, and nine hundred to Lingshui. The military provisions for the Changhua Chiliarchy were one thousand five hundred shi. The remainder was transported to the prefectural city of Qiongzhou.

“Transporting the grain over long distances is one thing; there are all sorts of tricks when it comes to the granaries receiving it,” Wang Zhaomin said. Whether it was a military or prefectural granary, the officials in charge were of the lowest, “unranked” status. But never mind these minor officials; even the tallymen and the head warehousemen could cause endless trouble during the delivery if not properly bribed. They would either complain that the rice quality was poor or insist the weight was insufficient. Once the delivery deadline passed, a penalty for being late was unavoidable.

“I see!” Wu De nodded. It seemed that taking on the county’s taxes would be a very challenging job for the transmigrators. If there were so many tricks just in transporting and delivering the grain, one could only imagine the schemes in other parts of the process.

Thirteen hundred shi were retained by the county to cover the salaries of officials and daily administrative expenses. From this, the provisions for the garrisoned troops, amounting to 572.02 shi, and the provisions for the Bopu Port Patrol Post, 17.86 shi, had to be deducted. In reality, even for a small county like Lingao, this amount of retained grain was far from sufficient to cover expenses. Apart from maintaining basic administrative functions, the county could hardly do anything else.

Wu De thought to himself that taking on the grain tax would still require the help of a group of natives familiar with the local situation. This Wang Zhaomin was a key person to win over.

Thinking of this, he nodded. “Thank you for teaching me, Mr. Wang.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Wang Zhaomin said, his spirits greatly lifted after seeing the Australian leader listen so intently and with such a grave expression. “It’s just a superficial view.”

“On this matter of tax collection, I must ask for more of Master Wang’s guidance,” Wu De said. Seeing that it was getting late and there was still much to discuss, he ordered someone to prepare a late-night snack.

Wu De had intended to win over Wang Zhaomin, so this snack was not prepared by Zhang Youfu’s maids. The stove, utensils, seasonings, and food were all provided by the Women’s Cooperative Restaurant in the East Gate Market. The two chefs were originally refugees from Guangdong. Their skills were already good, and after some training from the transmigrators, they had become even more proficient. Hearing that the big chief was entertaining an honored guest, they put in their utmost effort to prepare delicious food.

The dishes they made were not rare in the modern era—just Cantonese dim sum. Lingao had no shortage of seafood, and the Tianchu Soy Sauce Garden provided all sorts of modern seasonings, so the dim sum was not much different from what one would find in modern times. But in this era, these things became extremely rare “delicacies.”

Due to the lack of flour, these “Cantonese dim sum” were not sold publicly and were reserved for the transmigrators’ own use and for entertaining important native guests. Wang Zhaomin, of course, had never eaten them. When he saw the translucent dumplings filled with red shrimp and green peas, he was already a bit stunned. When he tasted them, he closed his eyes to savor the flavor, speechless for a long time.

Since it was a late-night snack, no wine was served, but the cigarettes and tea were of the highest quality. After the meal, Wang Zhaomin savored a cigarette for a long time before smiling. “I really don’t understand you people!”

This was a more profound statement, different from the usual pleasantries. Wu De knew that Master Wang’s psychological defenses were loosening. He had intentionally created a relaxed atmosphere precisely to have a deeper conversation with Wang Zhaomin and see if it was possible to win him over.

“How so?”

“Judging by your food, clothing, and daily necessities, Australia must be a prosperous and wealthy place. Why would you leave your good home to come to a poor, remote place like Lingao? What is your purpose?”

Wu De gave a dry laugh. I can’t very well tell you now that we’re here to ‘unite the six directions and gather the eight wildernesses.’ You’d think I was crazy. Even the smaller goal—to rule the Central Plains—would scare him to death if he said it out loud. He could only say, “It’s not something for outsiders to know.”

Wang Zhaomin, however, was thinking that this group must be high-ranking officials and nobles from Australia. Perhaps they had lost a political struggle at court or a power struggle within the palace and had to flee across the sea to the Great Ming with their followers and kin. Seeing them build roads and houses, dredge rivers and harbors, it seemed they had plans to stay here for a long time.

If that were the case, he could perhaps persuade them to submit a memorial to the court, showing their allegiance. With their talents and all their exquisite Australian goods, if they made some arrangements in the capital beforehand and presented them before the emperor, the court would likely not refuse. If the court allowed them to settle in Lingao, it would also solve a current troublesome matter.

“Now that your esteemed group has arrived in the Great Ming, do you plan to stay in this corner of Lingao for a long time?”

“What is Master Wang’s esteemed opinion?”

Wang Zhaomin shared his thoughts. Wu De was inwardly dismissive—this matter of being “pacified and enlisted” was completely out of the question at the moment. Seeing his lack of interest, Wang Zhaomin sighed and said no more.

However, Wu De couldn’t let him feel completely cold. He said, “Master Wang, it’s not that we don’t know what’s good for us. Although our knowledge is shallow, we still know the saying, ‘A common man is innocent, but his treasure makes him guilty.’”

Wang Zhaomin was taken aback, realizing he had a point. With all the things the Australians possessed, if the court found out, never mind the emperor, but all the officials, high and low, would see them as a big, fat piece of meat. The endless difficulties, extortion, and blackmail that would follow were a certainty.

“Yes, yes, your concerns are valid.”

They dropped the topic and continued to discuss the details of tax collection. Wang Zhaomin’s main purpose this time was to negotiate the “private fees,” the customary share of the benefits that the county magistrate received from the tax collection process.

This benefit was not just for the magistrate; the assistant magistrate, the registrar, and other subordinate officials all got a small share, but the largest portion went to the magistrate. As for Master Wang, he also had a share, usually around one hundred taels of silver.

In the past, although there were tax-farmers, they didn’t handle everything. The accounts still had to be consolidated at the county level, and the distribution of profits was usually handled by Wang Zhaomin. Now that the Australians were taking over everything, these fees had to be clarified beforehand.

This benefit naturally came from the “surcharges.” According to Wang Zhaomin, the customary surcharge in Lingao was between three and three and a half dou per shi of the standard tax, depending on the year’s harvest.

Of this surcharge, one dou was the “private fee,” which was the benefit for the county officials, typically amounting to between eight hundred and one thousand shi.

Wu De nodded. This figure was slightly different from the numbers obtained by the social survey team; it seemed a bit lower. He would have to ask the social survey team to conduct another focused sample survey.

“Although the standard wastage rice per shi is three dou, in reality, it’s not applied evenly,” Wang Zhaomin reminded him. “Some households don’t pay a single ge of wastage rice, while others have to pay seven or eight dou. The tricks of who pays, who doesn’t, how much they pay—it’s all in the hands of the clerk. His benefit comes from this as well.”

“I agree to the private fees,” Wu De said immediately. “When the tax collection is over, we will deliver it all.” He then got up, went to the next room where his bodyguard was waiting with an envelope, took it, returned to the room, and handed it to Wang Zhaomin with both hands.

“What is this?” Wang Zhaomin feigned surprise.

“A letter of appointment,” Wu De said with great sincerity. “We are newcomers, and from overseas, so we are ignorant of these matters. Since we have been entrusted by the county to take on the taxes, we must ask for Master Wang’s guidance and support. This is a letter of appointment for the position of ‘consultant’.”

“No, no, that’s not necessary,” Wang Zhaomin said, politely refusing. He thought to himself, How can I accept such a thing? Won’t it become evidence that I accepted a ‘false post’ in the future?

But seeing Wu De’s insistence, he feared that refusing would anger him. He had no choice but to accept it for now, thinking he would just burn it when he got back.