Chapter 90: The Household Survey

The beggars were not only responsible for watching the streets and sounding the night watch, but they were also involved in nearly all routine municipal tasks: collecting the bodies of those who died on the streets, fetching water for the fire brigades, opening and closing the canal sluice gates, and clearing the drains and dredging silt. Without completely dismantling the upper echelons and key figures of the Guandi Temple Gang, these tasks would only become tools for them to exploit the citizens and other beggars.

“If we were to seek a simple and cost-effective way to rule, the Guandi Temple Gang would be a very useful tool for the authorities,” Lin Biguang said. “They don’t cost the government a single penny, yet they undertake many tasks that should originally be borne by the government. It’s almost a perfect model of socialized management…”

“But it comes at a price,” Mu Min said.

“Yes, and that price is actually borne by the common people,” Lin Biguang said. “In fact, the government also pays a price: for centuries, the Guandi Temple Gang’s various forms of extortion from the citizens and their sheltering of criminals who harm the public’s interests are, in effect, the government ceding part of its taxation and public security powers in exchange for their services. The inevitable result is damage to the government’s credibility and authority, which is not a good deal from a ruling perspective.”

Mu Min nodded but didn’t elaborate on the issue. She asked, “Director Lin, what is your opinion?”

“Let’s not be hasty for now. First, we’ll investigate their background thoroughly. Then, we’ll catch them all in one fell swoop,” Lin Biguang said.

The beggar syndicate was a complex group with a large number of members, including many disabled individuals, elderly people, and children who were unable to work. Without a clear understanding of their situation and a well-thought-out resettlement plan, taking rash action would be problematic. It would be easy to take down the leaders and key figures, but if the members were to scatter, they would still pose a social problem.

“Good!” Mu Min nodded. To get a clear picture, they had to start by strengthening the grassroots organizations. Mu Min decided to personally oversee the household census and use the investigation to uncover the details of the Guandi Temple Gang.

Mu Min immediately began to assemble her team. In the past few days, she had already established a preliminary police structure and filled it with personnel. However, these measures were still primarily focused on “maintaining public order”; they were a long way from achieving the goal of “governance.”

She knew that the Senate’s philosophy on policing and grassroots governance was modeled after the first thirty years of the People’s Republic, with many elements inherited from the old Japanese police system. Therefore, police work had a strong tendency towards “police administration.” In other words, the police were not just a law enforcement unit but also bore the responsibility of grassroots administrative governance.

To meet this demand, they had to quickly strengthen the grassroots forces. Since the police force couldn’t be expanded overnight, they had to make use of the old baojia system.

She summoned Meng Gongchang and instructed him to immediately send messengers to convene a meeting of all the baozhang (headmen) from the city and the surrounding gate districts.

Guangzhou’s old grassroots baojia system was basically established according to the methods proposed by Wang Shouren and Hai Rui: one jia for every ten households, and one bao for every several jia. “Paijia registers” were kept in the archives of the prefecture and county yamen. All residents, regardless of status or gender, who were fifteen years of age or older and were permanent residents of a household, had to be registered in the paijia register. The accuracy of this data was far higher than that of the Yellow Registers, resembling a modern household registration system.

However, the paijia registers were not perfect. First, they only registered males and females aged fifteen and above. Second, they were not good at tracking population changes. Although there were regulations for registering the floating population, the problem was that there were no police stations in the Ming Dynasty, and whether registration was done or not depended entirely on the diligence of the jia leader. Therefore, these registration materials could only be used as a reference.

There were several thousand jia leaders in Guangzhou, so Mu Min naturally couldn’t call them all for a meeting. Even if she only summoned the baozhang, there would still be several hundred people.

The baozhang cautiously came to the Lingnan Circuit yamen. Normally, when baozhang met with officials, they went to the prefecture or county yamen. This time, they were summoned to the Australians’ “General Police Yamen,” and the newly appointed “chief of constables” was a woman! They had occasionally heard of female master thieves or female bandits, but a woman serving as a constable was truly a first. In short, everything the Australians did was strange.

Perhaps due to curiosity, the baozhang turnout was excellent. Except for a few who were missing or genuinely too ill to move, almost all the baozhang in the city came. Because there were so many people, not only was the main hall of the Lingnan Circuit yamen full, but the courtyard and the verandas were also packed with baozhang attending the meeting, a sea of people.

When Mu Min appeared in the black uniform of a senior police officer, a commotion immediately swept through the venue. The well-tailored black uniform jacket, black uniform skirt, and long boots created a martial and capable “Australian look” that made the baozhang’s eyes widen in an instant. The baozhang in the back rows stood up, craning their necks to get a better view.

The only “female Kun” they knew was Pei Lixiu, but Pei Lixiu mostly wore Ming Dynasty women’s clothing. Sometimes she wore “improved Hanfu” style clothes, which were still within the cognitive range of the people of that time. Mu Min’s completely modern uniform had a huge impact on them. They were all stunned.

Mu Min was already accustomed to this kind of reaction from the natives, but today there were quite a few “onlookers,” which made her feel a little awkward.

Seeing the situation getting out of control, several yamen runners quickly came out and shouted “Wei Wu—” (a cry to command silence and respect), suppressing the once-agitated baozhang.

The meeting was translated into Cantonese by Meng Gongchang. Mu Min didn’t waste any words and immediately assigned three tasks.

First, all baojia leaders were to re-register. The current baojia leaders were given a deadline to report to the municipal police department for registration. Those who failed to do so would be removed from their posts. At the same time, they were to submit a personal autobiography, filled out according to a provided template.

Second, the baozhang were to inform their respective jia that the police department was preparing to re-register the paijia registers. All jia were ordered to cooperate fully.

Third, a template was distributed, and the baozhang were to fill out a “Basic Situation Report of a Certain Bao” on the spot.

Based on the basic situation reports they filled out, the Naturalized Citizen staff marked the jurisdiction of each bao on a map of Guangzhou to arrange the order of the census.

While meticulously arranging the census, Mu Min also mobilized the census personnel. Due to the limited number of Naturalized Citizen cadres, most of the personnel in the census teams were from the old system. However, Mu Min arranged for at least three Cantonese-speaking Naturalized Citizen cadres in each team to serve as mutual supervisors. In addition to the team leader, the clerks responsible for filling out the registration forms and household registration books also had to be Naturalized Citizen personnel to prevent the retained yamen runners from playing tricks. For this purpose, not only were Cantonese-speaking personnel from all over the city mobilized, but many Cantonese-speaking soldiers from the National Army and the regular army were also seconded.

Zhang Yu hadn’t gone to the community school for the past few days. Since the Australians entered the city, the school had closed. It was said that the teacher had fled to the countryside and had not yet returned. With no one to teach, the school simply closed for a holiday.

While others might have been distressed by the school’s closure, the children in the school were secretly delighted. In ancient society, whether in an academy or a private school, there were only a few days off for the New Year. Normally, unless the teacher was on leave, there were no holidays. Now that the students could legitimately skip school, they were like monkeys with their locks opened. They called on their friends to wander around and see the “Australian sights,” throwing their elders’ warnings to “not run around” to the wind.

Zhang Yu, however, was not so lucky. He used to be able to use the excuse of “going to school” to skip class and play outside. Now that he had a legitimate holiday, his family wanted him to help out. After the Australians “liberated” Guangzhou, people from far away in the city came to buy his family’s “Australians’ favorite” walnut crisps. It was unclear whether they wanted to use this to establish a connection with the Australians or to understand their temperament and habits. In any case, his family’s walnut crisp business had suddenly multiplied several times over, making the already busy business even more overwhelming. Zhang Yu had no choice but to help out at home.

He knew how to do the work—he had learned just by watching since he was a child. But being tied to the shop all day, busy with kneading dough and shelling walnuts, was not something a person as active and curious as he was willing to do. Moreover, he had never done much manual labor as a child. After a long day of work, when he climbed into bed to sleep, he felt an aching soreness in all his limbs and couldn’t help but complain silently.

Fortunately, when the family needed to deliver fine goods, they always sent him, which at least gave him a chance to go out and relax.

Taking the opportunity of making deliveries, Zhang Yu visited many places in the city. As for what difference the Australians’ arrival had made, it seemed not much different from the Ming era—except that he heard they had demolished the shanties on Chengxuan Avenue, clearing the road, and had arrested and executed a batch of yamen runners. The city’s riff-raff had suddenly become much more honest. In the words of the tofu seller’s wife, “Opening the door feels refreshing.”

The yamen runners still existed. They all wore the basin-shaped hats that came from the Australians, with an armband on their sleeves that read “Assistant.” They patrolled the streets, all very well-behaved, and had lost their former habit of shouting and extorting from the shopkeepers.

The soldiers brought by the Australians could be seen everywhere. Some wore blue-grey uniforms, while others wore grey uniforms. Having long read various “Australian magazines,” Zhang Yu knew that those wearing grey short jackets were called the “National Army”—Li Ziyu said the official Song Dynasty term was “Provincial Army” (Xiangjun)—while the others were probably the so-called “Imperial Guard” (Jinjun).

These Provincial and Imperial Guards were stationed at the city gates, major temples, and yamen. He heard that many were also stationed at the training grounds outside the city. They were on duty and on patrol throughout the city, their uniforms neat, their weapons excellent, and their spirits high. Compared to the imperial troops, who were either sluggish and poor or arrogant and fierce, even from a commoner’s perspective, it was clear that they were two completely different armies.

Zhang Yu had never had a good impression of the imperial soldiers—they only bullied the common people, and they turned a blind eye to the water bandits and land bandits who kidnapped, robbed, and killed outside the city. He also didn’t think being a soldier was anything glorious—it was a profession for desperate poor people. When he first read in the Australian magazines that “being a soldier is glorious,” he couldn’t quite understand it. At most, he could only associate it with the military ranks of the Qin and Han dynasties—this was something Wu Ming had told him. But now, seeing the imposing military bearing of the Australians, whether the Provincial or Imperial Guard, he suddenly understood a lot more.