Chapter 188: The Summer Tax

Of the four tasks assigned by the Executive Committee, the recruitment of labor had been handled, albeit with a discount on the numbers. Land consolidation was progressing, with a respectable report from the Agriculture Committee and the Heaven and Earth Society. Disaster relief and replanting were strengths of the Transmigration regime, and with dedicated personnel in charge, there was no doubt it would be managed.

However, the most crucial issue—grain—remained completely unresolved.

The shortfall in relief grain and seed grain had been temporarily covered by the Planning Commission’s Qiongshan granary, but Wu De would eventually come to settle that account with him. If he couldn’t provide a satisfactory answer to the State Council and the Planning Commission on the grain issue, his performance report for the past six months in Qiongshan would look rather bleak.

Being a local official is truly difficult, Liu Xiang lamented sincerely. In the past, he had only seen local officials as virtual local emperors, true “masters of a hundred li,” but that pleasant illusion was now shattered.

“I’m also trying to figure this out,” Liu Xiang responded vaguely. “I can’t get any grain. Do you have any ideas?”

Chang Shide smiled subtly. “No wonder Du Wen says you’ve adopted a sentimental, petty-bourgeois tone since you arrived in Qiongshan. Of course there’s grain to be had; it just depends on your methods.”

Liu Xiang knew that “Red Flag” had recently been using him as a target for relentless criticism. Although not many people read it, it still added to his minor annoyances.

“You think so too? I’m worried that since we’ve just pacified Qiongshan and the people’s hearts are not yet settled, it’s not advisable to be too aggressive…” Liu Xiang had always considered Chang Shide a “moderate,” but he hadn’t expected him to be so radical at times. He nodded and said, “I’ll think about it some more!”

Liu Xiang returned to the county office. He had no one to discuss this matter with. Chang Shide had already made his stance clear, but he wasn’t a local cadre and lacked a direct stake in the matter. As for Wan Lihui, Yang Yun, and the other Elders who had come for disaster relief, they were even less involved. He felt very alone, unable to find a single person to consult on major decisions.

Using coercive measures would certainly be convenient. He wouldn’t even need the various black materials compiled by the General Political Security Bureau and the county office. He just had to detain a few of the gentry who were usually uncooperative, and then hold a meeting the next day to assign quotas. Every family would obediently hand over their grain.

But in his heart, he was reluctant to use such forceful means. He always felt it made him seem “incompetent.” Liu Xiang had been struggling with this issue recently.

“Why don’t I have the protagonist’s knack for a sudden stroke of genius from those Transmigration novels?” he muttered behind his desk, idly flipping through a new document from the General Directorate of Finance that had just been delivered.

After casually flipping through a few pages, he came across a document concerning the collection of the summer tax—a serious matter. He quickly began to read it carefully.

The document was long, detailing everything meticulously. Since the independent tax department had just been established, the tax system was not yet perfect, and there was a shortage of personnel. It was temporarily impossible to set up vertically-led local tax bureaus. Therefore, for the time being, the General Tax Bureau would formulate specific policies and tax rates, and the county offices would organize their own grain collection bureaus. The professional staff for these bureaus would be dispatched by the General Directorate of Finance on short-term assignments to guide and supervise the work.

According to this notice from the General Directorate of Finance, this year, except for Lingao which was piloting a new tax system, the summer and autumn levies in all other counties would continue to be collected based on the Ming government’s per-mu system. In areas where the land survey had been completed, taxes were to be strictly collected according to the land area figures in the new land registers. In areas where the survey was not yet complete, collection would continue based on the existing Fish-scale Registers in each county. The Liaodong military levy, which was an extra charge on the grain tax, was to be abolished. All other miscellaneous taxes were to be either continued or abolished at the discretion of each county based on local conditions.

The amount of grain tax collected in each county could be no more than 180% of the old collection amount and no less than 100%. However, the document clearly stipulated that the past practices of “floating collection” and “extra levies” must not reappear. Every single grain and every single coin collected must be clearly accounted for and traceable. The practice of enriching a large number of handlers under the guise of collecting imperial taxes was strictly forbidden.

As for the method of payment, except for Lingao, all other counties would pilot a dual system of circulation coupons and grain. Silver and copper coins would no longer be accepted for tax collection. They had to be converted into grain circulation coupons at the current grain price before taxes could be paid.

Liu Xiang read very carefully. Perhaps he could find an angle with the summer tax? He suddenly felt a surge of energy. Assigning quotas sounded bad, but collecting taxes was a perfectly legitimate matter.

Of course, this tax couldn’t be levied on the common people; it had to come from the gentry.

“Hmph, let’s see where you can run to now!” Liu Xiang thought of this group of gentry and a smile appeared on his lips. “This is a system established by Zhu Baba himself…”

He continued to flip through the document. At the end was a thick volume titled “Detailed Account of Old Taxes and Levies in the Counties of Qiongzhou Prefecture, Qiongshan County Volume,” stamped with a red “Confidential” seal. This was a reference material compiled by the General Directorate of Finance based on historical records, county archives, and testimonies from clerks in the household department, specifically for the use of the county offices.

Liu Xiang knew nothing about the tax system and had no intention of taking over, but he was keenly interested in how much tax could be collected. He opened it and began to read. At first glance, he was disappointed, because Qiongshan County’s summer tax was a paltry 8.6 shi, not even a fraction of the autumn levy.

Flipping further, he saw various categories like “commercial tax,” “fishery tax,” “miscellaneous items,” “local tribute,” “various needs,” and “corvée labor.” His eyes lit up—this was where the real money was!

Although the amount for each category was not large, the variety was immense, ranging from fish glue, feathers, medicinal herbs, silk and cotton, and deerskin to the paper and ink used in the yamen, the salaries of officials, the wages of clerks, and finally, the sacrifices at the altars of state and the Confucian temple. Almost everything was levied from the populace: some in silver, some in grain, some in various goods, and some in labor. Apart from a portion that had to be submitted to the national treasury, most of this wealth was used locally. If the grain tax was the national tax, then these miscellaneous taxes were mostly local taxes. The counties and prefectures of the Ming dynasty basically ran on this income.

For Liu Xiang, the biggest gain was in the corvée labor. The entire Qiongzhou Prefecture had an officially stipulated corvée labor burden of 2,587 units. After the implementation of the Single Whip Reform during the Wanli era, this labor service had mostly been converted into silver payments. The official quota for corvée silver in Qiongzhou Prefecture alone was 13,450 taels. Of course, in line with the usual practice of this era, the document pointed out that the actual collection amount for this corvée silver was likely between 25,000 and 30,000 taels.

Qiongshan County, as the capital county of the prefecture, accounted for nearly 600 units of labor service between the prefecture and county levels. This meant that even without any floating collection, Liu Xiang could get at least 3,000 taels of silver. Adding in other miscellaneous taxes and levies, it would be no problem for Qiongshan County to collect 5,000 taels from the summer tax.

Naturally, Liu Xiang would not be satisfied with just 5,000 taels. He immediately summoned Ma Benyuan, a retained staff member from the old yamen.

Ma Benyuan was originally the Gou family’s “connection” in Qiongshan. After the fall of the Gou family, he was coerced and recruited by Lin Baiguang using black materials, becoming a member of the Qiongshan intelligence network. After the Spring Awakening campaign, he became a “hidden cadre” controlled by the Qiongshan reconnaissance network of the General Political Security Bureau. On the surface, he was still a retained staff member of the Qiongzhou prefectural yamen.

Ma Benyuan was smart, capable, and extremely pragmatic. If serving Lin Baiguang in the past was out of necessity, then after the Battle of Chengmai, as soon as the Ming flag fell, he had no psychological barriers to serving the “Kun thieves.”

He was an old hand in Qiongzhou Prefecture and knew the local situation like the back of his hand. Although he had no formal appointment, he was effectively the secret advisor to the Qiongshan County Office.

After hearing Liu Xiang’s idea, he pondered for a moment, then asked with his small, sharp eyes, “Chief, if you want to get this money from the gentry, have you asked about the Executive Committee’s attitude? This cannot be done without great determination.”

Ma Benyuan paid close attention to the political system of the “chiefs.”

“No problem,” Liu Xiang nodded.

“This matter is not difficult, but it will greatly sweep away the face of the gentry. Please be mindful, Chief.”

Liu Xiang was puzzled. “Sweep away what face?”

“Chief, what you are proposing is to have the gentry and officials pay taxes and perform labor service as one…” Ma Benyuan lowered his voice as he said this, as if he were speaking of something highly seditious.

Liu Xiang had read this phrase in novels but didn’t fully understand it. Seeing the chief’s perplexed expression, Ma Benyuan quickly explained that according to the current dynasty’s system, those with scholarly honors were customarily exempt from a certain amount of corvée labor based on their rank. This was the same principle as a xiucai being exempt from two shi of grain tax; it was a form of preferential treatment for scholars and the gentry.

According to Liu Xiang’s plan, the 600 units of corvée silver would now be entirely apportioned to the gentry of the county—it was not realistic to demand that the common people pay corvée silver after the typhoon.

“The silver is a small matter. But the moment you announce that the gentry must pay corvée silver, they will act as if they have lost their parents,” Ma Benyuan continued in a low voice. “If they stir up trouble, I’m afraid it won’t align with the higher-ups’ grand policy of ‘stabilizing the situation,’ will it?”

Liu Xiang suddenly understood. No wonder Ma Benyuan was speaking so mysteriously. It was a sensitive point. Pressing it would surely send the scholars of Qiongshan County into a frenzy. He recalled the various plots in the novels and TV shows he had seen about “equal taxation and service for officials and gentry” and nodded.

In essence, he was not interested in their opinions. Under the rule of the Senate, there was no place for the gentry and scholars. If they really wanted to cause trouble, he would deal with them swiftly and decisively.

He didn’t fully trust Ma Benyuan and did not reveal his true attitude, simply nodding and saying, “I understand. You may go back first.” Then he added, “Our conversation must be kept confidential.”

“Yes, your humble servant… I understand.” Ma Benyuan looked at Liu Xiang, hesitated as if he wanted to say more, and then cautiously withdrew.