Chapter 11: Chen Qiao

Lin Yuan went to find Fang De first thing the next morning.

Fang De was in his tent gnawing on a braised pork knuckle, oily juices dripping down his fingers. He didn't bother wiping them, just kept chewing while flipping through a ledger.

"Master Fang, I'd like to go ahead to the Luzhou Prefectural City."

Fang De looked up at him, still chewing meat.

"What for in the prefectural city?"

"To examine the accounts," Lin Yuan said matter-of-factly. "The Huainan Administration Commission's disaster relief silver allocation records should be archived at the prefectural level according to regulations. Since I, as an inspector, have the authority to review income and expenditure ledgers, I can't just focus on your end here. I also need to look through the old accounts in the prefectural city."

Fang De stopped chewing. He sized up Lin Yuan for a moment, tossed the gnawed bone onto a plate, and wiped his hands with a cloth.

"You want to look at the old accounts?"

"Yes."

"Luzhou Prefectural City isn't like here. The floodwaters there receded less than half a month ago, and the place is in chaos. For you to go in alone, your safety—"

"My own life is my own concern, no need for Master Fang to worry."

Fang De laughed.

"Alright. Then take care on the road, Master Lin. The relief convoy will set off for Luzhou in a few days. We'll meet up in the city then."

He agreed readily, without even asking a single extra question.

Lin Yuan left the tent and mounted his horse under Huo Qing's gaze.

The reason Fang De didn't stop him was simple: a seventh-rank inspector with no soldiers or men under his command couldn't stir up much trouble in the prefectural city.

Even if he pored over the old accounts until they fell apart, the authority to determine disaster levels and classifications wasn't in his hands.

Besides, the old accounts had long been made seamless. Everyone in the prefectural city was one of their own; they knew how to handle things without him having to give instructions.

Fang De probably even wished he'd go farther away, to save himself the annoyance of having him around.

The journey from the camp to Luzhou Prefectural City was about forty li. Setting out in the morning and riding without stopping, he arrived in the afternoon.

Luzhou Prefectural City was somewhat better than Lin Yuan had imagined, and also somewhat worse.

The good part was that the city walls were still standing, the gates were open, and people were moving about on the streets.

The bad part was the streets were full of mud, seven out of ten shops along the street were closed, and clusters of disaster victims huddled against the base of walls, listlessly curled under tattered mats.

The air was thick with the damp, musty smell of decay, mixed with a foul stench drifting from some unknown direction.

Lin Yuan led his horse into the city and walked along the main street for a stretch.

Before leaving, Zhou Zheng had told him that Chen Qiao worked as a clerk in the Luzhou Prefectural Office, managing the household registry archives, and usually lived in an alley next to the Earth God Temple in the southern part of the city.

Lin Yuan found a stall selling soup noodles and sat down. The stall owner was a lame old man in his fifties. The bottom of the pot used to boil the noodles was caked with black grime, and the broth was murky, but at least it was hot.

"Old sir, how do I get to the Earth God Temple in the southern part of the city?"

The lame old man pointed in a direction with his ladle, then added, "That area was heavily flooded. The road isn't easy to travel."

After finishing his noodles, Lin Yuan placed five copper coins on the table, led his horse, and headed south.

The Earth God Temple wasn't large. The half-person-high surrounding wall had collapsed in one section, the temple gate stood open, and seven or eight disaster victims were crammed inside.

The alley next to it was easy enough to find—a narrow dirt path with low, commoner houses on either side.

Lin Yuan tied up his horse and counted doors until he reached the third house.

The door was made of wooden planks, covered with a layer of yellow mud. After being soaked by water, most of the mud coating had peeled off.

He knocked three times.

There was a rustling sound, and the door opened a crack, revealing half a face.

Behind the door was a man in his forties with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, a sallow complexion, and three or four days' worth of unshaven stubble sticking out messily on his chin.

"Who is it?"

"Zhou Zheng sent me."

The eye in the crack blinked twice.

"You are…"

"Lin Yuan, Reminder, currently serving as the Huainan Disaster Relief Inspector."

Chen Qiao closed the door another inch.

"Don't know you."

"Zhou Zheng, Chief Clerk of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, ninth rank, lives in Chongyi Ward. You and he passed the provincial examination in the same year, the twelfth year of Yongshou. He says you borrowed two taels of silver from him back then to buy books and still haven't paid him back."

The crack in the door stopped moving.

After a long moment, Chen Qiao pulled the door open, looked both ways down the alley, and stepped aside to let him in.

The room wasn't large: one table, one bed, one chair, with several bundles of documents piled in a corner. The signs of water damage were obvious; there was a waist-high waterline mark along the base of the wall.

Chen Qiao closed the door, turned around, and his expression was far from friendly.

"What are you here for?"

"To ask for your help."

"Help with what."

"I need copies of the land registers for all counties under Luzhou Prefecture."

Chen Qiao's face tightened instantly.

He stared at Lin Yuan for a long while, then shook his head.

"You should leave."

"Chen Qiao—"

"I said you should leave." Chen Qiao's voice was very low. "The land register copies are in the prefectural archive. That's prefectural yamen property. Do you know who Luzhou Prefect Cheng Yuanshan is? A protégé of Administration Commissioner Zhou Rong. And who is Zhou Rong? A man of Zhao Chong in the capital."

He pointed his fingers out one by one.

"The relief convoy you came with from the court, the silver transport supervisor Fang De, is also Zhao Chong's man. This chain is tightly linked from top to bottom. You, a seventh-rank inspector, come to me asking for land registers? Do you think I've lived too long, or do you think you've lived too long?"

Lin Yuan pulled over the chair and sat down.

"I think I've lived too long."

Chen Qiao was taken aback.

"What did you say?"

"I'm telling the truth." Lin Yuan took out the small notebook from his robe, opened it, and handed it to Chen Qiao. "Take a look."

Chen Qiao hesitated, then took it.

He looked down at a few lines, turned a page, then another. The further he flipped, the tighter his brow furrowed.

"Willow Bend Village, seventy-two households, Fang De reported thirty. River Mouth Town, over three hundred households, Fang De reported one hundred fifty. South Bay Village, one hundred thirteen households, Fang De reported fifty…"

He flipped page by page, muttering under his breath. By the latter half, his fingers began to tremble slightly.

"Casualties over a thousand?" His voice suddenly grew hoarse, his Adam's apple bobbing. "River Mouth Town… my cousin's family lives in River Mouth Town."

"I counted them myself, heard it with my own ears," Lin Yuan said. "I entered every village, asked at every household."

Chen Qiao closed the notebook. He didn't hand it back to Lin Yuan but held it in his hand, lowering his head in silence.

The room was quiet for a long time.

"Fang De assessed the disaster as Level Six," Lin Yuan continued. "Four thousand two hundred households affected, four hundred thirty-one households in extreme poverty. With eight hundred thousand taels of relief silver, he only needs to spend thirty thousand to balance the books. The remaining seven hundred seventy thousand taels are supposedly for repairing river embankments and building houses. Whether they get repaired or built, you know better than I do."

Chen Qiao looked up.

"Of course I know."

"Last autumn, Huainan had a minor flood. The court allocated one hundred twenty thousand taels for embankment repairs. The silver reached the Administration Commission, Zhou Rong skimmed forty percent. When it was allocated to Luzhou Prefecture, Cheng Yuanshan skimmed another thirty percent. Less than thirty thousand taels were actually used on the embankments. What kind of embankments can you repair with thirty thousand taels? They just slapped on a layer of mud. When the waters rose this spring, all the mud washed away."

He gave a bitter smile.

"You think this year's great flood was so severe why? The natural disaster was a small part; man-made disaster was the main cause. If the embankments had been properly repaired last year, the eleven counties of Luzhou wouldn't have flooded this badly."

Lin Yuan didn't reply, waiting for him to finish.

Chen Qiao placed the notebook on the table and rubbed his face back and forth with his palms.

"Master Lin, let me tell you something from the bottom of my heart. The things you've recorded, the numbers you've investigated—are they useful?"

"They are."

"How are they useful? Fang De is Zhao Chong's man, everyone in the prefectural city is Zhao Chong's man. Where are you going to report it? To the Administration Commission? That place isn't clean either. To the court? Zhao Chong covers the sky with one hand—"

"I'm not reporting it."

Chen Qiao was stunned.

"I'm not taking the reporting route," Lin Yuan said. "Reporting back and forth, memorials submitted just sink into the sea. I want the land register copies not to write a memorial."

"Then what do you want them for?"

"To cross-check the accounts on the spot when Fang De distributes relief. He reports four thousand two hundred households; what's written on the land registers? He says thirty thousand mu of affected farmland; what's the total registered mu on the land registers? In front of the disaster victims, check item by item, let everyone see how his numbers came about."

Chen Qiao stared at him.

"You're insane. Cross-check on the spot? The yamen runners under Fang De aren't pushovers; each has mid Houtian cultivation. If you really dare poke this hole during relief distribution, they won't let you walk out alive."

"Even better if I die."

Lin Yuan said this in a flat, even tone.

Chen Qiao opened his mouth but couldn't speak for a long moment.

"My life isn't worth much," Lin Yuan leaned back in the chair. "But before I die, I need to let those who should know learn the truth. The disaster victims, others—someone needs to see these numbers. No matter how beautifully Fang De cooks the books, cross-check them with the land registers, and they're full of holes."

"Aren't you afraid of dying for nothing?"

"No."

Chen Qiao was silent for a very long time.

From outside the house came the sound of a disaster victim child crying in the alley, intermittent and weak.

"The land register copies are in the eastern wing of the prefectural archive, on the wooden shelf in the third row, fourth column," Chen Qiao finally spoke. "The land registers for all eleven counties of Luzhou are there, not water-damaged. The archive is on the highest ground; on the day of the flood, the water only reached the threshold."

He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from under the table and drew a few lines with a brush.

"The archive has two gates. Two guards at the outer gate, one at the inner gate. Daytime security is tight. The night shift changes at Hai hour. There's about a quarter-hour window during the changeover. Going from this alley over the back wall is the closest route."

After finishing the drawing, he pushed the paper toward Lin Yuan.

"But I have one condition."

"Name it."

"You never came to me. No matter the outcome, whether you live or die, my name must not appear anywhere. I have an elderly mother above and young children below. I can't go to my death with you."

Lin Yuan picked up the paper, folded it, and tucked it into his robe.

"Did I come to this alley today?"

Chen Qiao looked at him.

"You didn't."

"Then it's settled." Lin Yuan stood up, retrieved his small notebook and stowed it away, and walked to the door.

Before pulling the door open, he glanced back.

"Oh, and Zhou Zheng said those two taels of silver—"

"Tell him when you go back that I paid it back long ago! He's the one who forgot!"

Lin Yuan chuckled, pulled the door open, and left.

The light in the alley was already dim, the sun mostly obscured by clouds. He led his horse and walked back the way he came.

Hai hour, huh.