Chapter 76: Yangzhou

That very night, Jiaojiao came down with a high fever. Childhood fevers are no small matter, so Gansui summoned the best pediatrician in town. Banxia took spirits and gently wiped Jiaojiao’s palms and soles. Naonao, sensing his little sister’s discomfort, cried incessantly, and Banxia, worried he might also catch cold, hurriedly asked Aunt Yang to take him away and soothe him. On their first night in Yangzhou, no one managed to get any sleep. Fortunately, by the next day, Jiaojiao’s fever had subsided.

No matter how unaccustomed Banxia was to this new life, the days had to go on. One pressing issue was that there weren't enough hands in their courtyard anymore. Over the years, Wang Xiaoshan’s business had flourished, and the dividends were ample, so Banxia had no need to worry about money. But as the children grew, they needed more attendants.

With Anzi gone, and both Shanzhi and Mister Lu leaving as well, Banxia was left with only Xiangyu and He’s daughter. He’s daughter, now of age, had pleaded to stay in service, hoping to learn from Banxia’s example. For convenience, Banxia gave her the name Xianglan. At night, Banxia kept both children in her own room to watch over them, while during the day Aunt Yang took charge. But this was not a long-term solution. The children were growing more active by the day—especially Naonao, who could dart off in the blink of an eye.

Banxia sent Hanshui out to buy more servants: doormen, maids to sweep the courtyard, kitchen helpers, and a wet nurse to help with the children. Over the years, Hanshui had proven capable and steady, earning the trust of both Banxia and Gansui.

On Gansui’s second day in Yangzhou, it happened to be a day of rest. He had his deputy magistrate lead him to pay respect to the Yangzhou Weaving Commissioner and the Salt Transport Commissioner of the two Huai regions.

Yangzhou had always been an affluent place, famed for its handicrafts and salt industry. The post of Yangzhou prefect was a lucrative one, but it was also notoriously difficult. The last three prefects had all met violent ends. Such is the way of officialdom: with power comes the desire for wealth; with wealth, the hunger for yet more power; and with both, the craving for beauty. What was Yangzhou most famed for besides its riches? The famed “Yangzhou Slender Horses.”

The Yangzhou Slender Horses were a peculiar phenomenon. The top-tier among them could play instruments, compose poetry, paint, play chess, sing opera, and master all manner of arts. It was said that the most promising girls were selected from childhood and rigorously trained in all these skills, all so they might marry into wealthy households—capable of both managing a home and bringing pleasure as a concubine. In the end, their lives were shaped entirely for the whims of their future masters.

On his very first visit, Gansui encountered this remarkable group at the Salt Transport Commissioner’s residence. Arriving at the gate, he ran into Liu Youcai, the president of the Salt Merchants’ Guild, who had come to report business to the commissioner. With him were two graceful “Slender Horses.”

They had the elegance of noble ladies, attended by two young maids—one holding a parasol, the other fanning them. After stepping down from their sedan chair, they glided forward, trailing a delicate fragrance on the breeze. Hanshing, who accompanied Gansui and had only been in service for two months, blushed crimson at the sight. Recommended by Lu Ying, Hanshing was smart but still inexperienced, and new to such scenes.

As it was a rest day, Gansui was not in his official robes, so Liu Youcai did not recognize his status, though he did spot Deputy Magistrate Han. Since Han managed salt affairs, Liu Youcai hurried over to greet him.

“Master Han, how did the old lady find those medicinal herbs I sent last time? If they were helpful, I’ll send more straight away.”

Han sensed trouble the moment he saw Liu Youcai. Sure enough, before he could even signal with a glance, Liu was already fawning over him, currying favor in front of Han’s superior—a fine way to get caught red-handed. Han quickly clarified, “President Liu, I only asked your help because I lacked connections. Let me introduce our new prefect, Master Gan.”

Liu Youcai was stunned. He knew a new prefect was arriving and had come today precisely to sound out this new official, for offending the authorities meant the end of business.

“Sir, forgive my ignorance—I had no idea…”

“No need for such formality, President Liu. I’m new here and will rely on all of you for support.” Gansui was well aware of the murky waters in Yangzhou and had no illusions about clearing them up quickly. He had three years ahead—time would tell.

The porter had already rushed in to deliver the news, and the steward came out personally to welcome them.

“If only we’d known the prefect was coming, we would have been waiting outside to greet you.”

“No need for such trouble. I only came to pay my respects to the Salt Transport Commissioner—is he in?”

“He is—practicing martial arts in the back garden. Please, come in.”

This Salt Transport Commissioner was a man of talent, skilled in both pen and sword. The steward led Gansui deep into a refined courtyard, winding through secluded paths until they reached a garden. There, a man dressed in a white short jacket and black silk trousers was practicing with a long saber, cutting a fierce figure.

The steward brought Gansui to the edge of the martial yard. The commissioner, seeing him approach, flourished his blade and stopped. “I hear Prefect Gan is versed in the martial arts. Care to spar?”

“I only know a little, nothing special.”

“Just a friendly match. I know my limits. Come.” He put aside his saber and took two wooden swords from the rack, tossing one to Gansui.

“In that case, I’ll do my best…” Before Gansui could finish, the commissioner’s sword was already coming at him. Gansui parried, and they exchanged a flurry of moves—yet Gansui only defended, never attacking.

After more than twenty rounds, the commissioner halted. “Prefect Gan, you call that ‘just a little’ skill?”

“You flatter me, sir. I only have enough to protect myself.”

“I hear you’ve met the Crown Prince?”

The Emperor had never publicly declared that it was Gansui who had raised the prince, only that he’d been found by the Lin family army and stayed for a time with the Liangzhou prefect.

“I have.”

“What did you think of his bearing?”

“He was extraordinary.”

“Is it true that nephews often resemble their uncles? Does he look like Lin Tianyu?”

“There is indeed a resemblance.”

“I see… Show our guest out!”

Gansui was baffled—why was he being shown out so abruptly?

“I’ll take my leave, then.”

The commissioner turned and walked away without a backward glance.

The steward, as usual, saw him out. “Sir, please don’t take offense. Our master isn’t angry with you—he was simply reminded of a painful memory.”

“A painful memory?”

“Years ago, the master’s younger brother, a lover of martial arts, joined the Lin family army. Less than half a year later, only his body returned. The master always feels deep sorrow when reminded of it.”

It truly made little sense—anyone joining the army should expect danger and the possibility of death. Since he had allowed his brother to go, why now secretly blame the commanding general? But other people’s family matters were not Gansui’s concern. Still, this Salt Transport Commissioner was certainly someone to be watched.

Leaving the commissioner’s residence, Gansui went on to the Yangzhou Weaving Commissioner’s home. This official was no ordinary man—the Emperor’s own nephew. His mother, Princess Yun Ni, was the Emperor’s cousin, and when he was appointed, he was sent to Yangzhou, ostensibly because of the city’s beautiful women. Though he had many wives and concubines, he cherished his first wife, who was a formidable woman herself. Despite the numbers, no trouble had ever arisen in his household.

His surname was Song, given name Mingyuan. With a face perpetually wreathed in smiles, he seemed the very soul of amiability. It happened to be lunchtime, so he invited Gansui to dine.

The maids entered in a line, setting out the dishes. Song Mingyuan waved everyone away, and Gansui realized this was no ordinary meal—more a feast fraught with hidden dangers. Once they were alone, Song’s expression grew grave. “Before you arrived, His Majesty sent me a secret edict. We are to investigate the salt taxes of the two Huai regions together.”

“Salt taxes?” Gansui was surprised; he had received no such order.

“The Yangtze-Huai region produces more salt than anywhere in Liang. As long as the people eat salt, business will never cease. The salt tax here accounts for a quarter of the entire nation’s revenue. Yet last year, only a little over two hundred thousand taels were reported to the Ministry of Revenue. This year’s war with Keler has emptied the treasury; rumor has it the Emperor is cutting palace expenses. If we don’t get to the bottom of this, I fear these parasites will eat our country alive.”

“Do you suspect anyone in particular, Commissioner Song?”

“Is there any need to guess? The Salt Transport Commissioner, Liang Cheng’an. He’s always been at odds with the Lin family army—maybe he wants money in one hand and to undermine the Lins with the other.”

“So you’re aware of the feud between Liang and the Lin family?”

“Who in court isn’t? Not just him, but his father too—that censor who last year reported the Lin army’s expenses to the Emperor. They’ve never gotten along.”

“Enough—try this crabmeat lion’s head. If our cook’s not the best in all of Jianghuai, then no one dares claim first place. It’s no good if it gets cold—come, come…” Song Mingyuan enthusiastically served the dishes.

Gansui ate without tasting, uneasy, though he could not say why. The officialdom of Yangzhou lacked the grinding poverty of the common folk, but was rife with intrigue and rivalry. Gansui felt inexplicably weary.

Returning home, he found both children napping. Banxia sat under the grape arbor, fanning herself absentmindedly. When she saw him, she rose to greet him. “You’re finally back! I heard you dined with the great and powerful today—what delicacies did you have? Tell me everything!”

“The host talked politics the whole time. I hardly tasted the food, and I can’t remember what we ate.”

“Who talks business over a meal? I’ll have Mrs. He make you a bowl of noodles.”

“No need. Come sit with me a while.” Gansui pulled Banxia down, holding her in his arms. “It feels like forever since I’ve sat so quietly like this.”

Banxia stroked his hair. “You’re always so busy. Is it hard being an official?”

“Being an official isn’t hard. It’s the maneuvering and scheming that wear me out—no one ever speaks plainly.”

“Then maybe I should jump him in an alley at midnight and beat some honesty into him.”

Gansui burst out laughing and couldn’t stop.

“What’s so funny?”

“Wife, I really do like you—so very much.”