LBLCPCB C19

Chapter 19

Zhu Song no longer wished to hear Yi Kangning’s evasions. He cut him short:

“Tell your kitchens to prepare more rice at once. If I hear even one voice say they went unfed, Yi‑daren, you may prepare a new color for your official’s hat.”¹

Yi Kangning bowed hastily. “Yes, immediately, I shall see it done.”

Zhu turned away. Yi shot his servants a furtive glance, then hurried after him.

“Where are the new refugee shelters to be built?” Zhu asked.

“Over there,” Yi answered.

“Take me.”

Crossing swiftly, they saw a broad ground where hundreds labored. But looking close, Zhu saw only a dozen government yamen officers—all the rest were refugees.

Yi supplied an excuse at once: “Our manpower stretched thin, in urgency the refugees volunteered themselves.”

Zhu’s eyes tightened on the site. Not even the framework stood yet. As he went forward, suddenly—a support beam cracked.

A laborer fell from three meters, smashed his head upon stone. Motionless. Rain pooled with blood, red streams washing everywhere.

Zhu’s brow furrowed as he strode quickly to the body. Around, the others only looked toward Yi’s face, as if gauging his reaction—no real horror upon theirs.

Zhu crouched and pressed fingers to the nose. Already no breath.

He rose, gaze lifting to the snapped beam. Rain revealed its core hollowed by rot, moths fluttering into the air. His expression deepened into storm.

Yi floundered: “Such weather, accidents cannot be avoided—”

Zhu clenched his fist and ignored him. Instead he told the workers: “Stop work, all of you.”

The yamen obeyed without comment. But the refugees wailed at once:

“We cannot stop, lord! Drenched like this, we will all die!”

“Better let us labor, we do not fear death!”

Then, countless dropped to their knees, rain and tears and blood flowing alike into the churned yellow mud.

Zhu’s chest grew heavy. After a pause he said steadily:

“Tonight I will open the city gates. Refugees may enter. But on one condition—you obey orders.”

At once cheers surged. “We obey! Lord, you are parents reborn to us!”

“Reborn father of ours!”

“Reborn father!”

Yi panicked. “Lord! Too many, if they flood in—where will they lodge?”

Zhu ignored him, addressing the kneeling: “Go. Tell all your fellows. Prepare to enter the city for shelter.”

Overjoyed, they banged heads to mud in thanks and dashed to spread the word.

Zhu returned to the Provincial Office. There he set Yi Kangning to tally up every shop or hall in the city large enough to shelter people. He then ordered Duan Zhenghong to negotiate with their owners to house refugees.

Duan balked. “They—they will never agree.”

“If they agree, I’ll send men. Why need you to speak?” Zhu flicked him a glare.

Flustered, he hedged: “I may try, but cannot promise success.”

Zhu’s tone thundered. “Nothing you can do, everything impossible? Duan‑daren, what use are you as Inspector?”

Duan snapped, sleeve whipping: “Though you are capital envoy, you rank but fourth. I outrank you.”

Zhu’s gaze cut like steel. “You outrank me—but do you outrank the Emperor?”

Duan’s face iced. “How dare Zhu‑daren style himself as His Majesty?”

Zhu raised his hand in salute, voice cold. “You mistake me. Before leaving the capital, His Majesty granted me the Imperial Sword of Authority², to act as needed. With it, if need be, I could strip you of rank, or even take your head. And none would say no.”

The color drained from Duan’s face. He bowed quickly. “Since the sword exists, I heed Envoy’s command.”

Zhu’s lips curved faint. “Good. I trouble you.”

“So—I obey.” Duan left to do it.

Yi Kangning remained trembling. “Then… what shall I do, lord?”

Zhu smiled thinly. “Much! Yi‑daren—count shops, estimate capacity by floor space. By tonight I want numbers.”

The words stuck in Yi’s throat. Argument swam—but just then he recalled how Duan had been crushed. Yi wilted and bowed. “Yes.”

Arrangements made, Zhu turned to his cousins.

“Lingye—investigate how the old refugee shelters washed out. Lingwang—check the accounting.”

Lingye glanced. “If you know they stink of corruption, why order them tasks? Hoping they ‘earn merit to atone’?”

Zhu only said: “Everything has its use. Now go.”

Later, Zhu sought out Astronomer Zhang Wanping. Disasters always brought Astronomers—to divine forecasts.

“Zhang‑daren,” Zhu greeted.

Zhang held an umbrella, eyes cast to heaven, lashes wet with downpour. His face was somber. After a long silence, he spoke: “Rain without thunder, heavens masked without light. This is an omen of ceaseless deluge. I see no end yet.” His eyes returned to Zhu, heavy with concern: “Prepare for long siege.”

Zhu nodded grim. Then discussed, half idly: “Refugees rot in rain. Already sickness spreads. Only the envoy’s presence brings me calm.”

Zhang sighed. “Since you came, I too may rest at ease.”

Zhu let the irony cut deep. So Song Shunran collapses sick only when posted here? Aloud he smiled: “Mask of water‑sickness. Odd how fine he was in the capital.”

“Perhaps unaccustomed airs,” Zhang said lightly, unwilling to tread.

Zhu’s sardonic grin held. “Of course—not sleepless concern for common folk.”

They parted. Zhu knew the truth—Song Shunran, kin to Prince Su, held his own factions. Untouchable, evidence or not.

That evening, tasks bore fruit. Yi reported: “There are 268 shops, capacity 7,062 people.”

“How many victims in all?” Zhu asked sharply.

Yi stammered. “Seven—eight thousand? Daily increases. One cannot be exact.”

Zhu’s smile thinned. “Forget it.” His eyes shifted to Duan. “And you?”

“I convened the merchants. One hundred twenty‑six agree—to house refugees—but demand payment. Ninety‑six refuse flat. Forty‑six absent.”

“Where are these men now?”

“In the yamen hall.”

“Bring them,” Zhu commanded.

Soon, all 268 proprietors stood mustered. Zhu ordered crisply: “Those willing—step left.” The majority shifted.

“Those refusing—step right.” Another group moved.

The rest lingered.

“Those are the ‘absent masters’?”

“Yes—their deputies,” Duan confirmed.

“Then use their premises by conscription.”

The deputies erupted at once—“No! Our masters have fastidious pride!” “Our goods are priceless!”

Zhu cut their noise with a hand. “Choose then: join refusals, or join the paid demands.”

The shuffle went quickly. In the end, one man still stood at center.

Zhu eyed him. “You consent to conscription?”

“I do.”

Zhu patted his shoulder. Only Duan’s eyes glittered with distaste.

“Your name?” Zhu asked.

“Your humble, Zhou Yannian, of the Tianyue Inn.”³

“Sit,” Zhu said.

“Grateful, lord.”

Then Zhu’s eyes swept the hall. “So—all agreed? No changes?”

“No changes!” the crowd chorused.

Footnote

1. “Change color of hat” — Idiom: the black hat (烏紗帽) symbolized office rank. “Change color” = being demoted or dismissed.

2. Imperial Sword (尚方寶劍) — A mythical imperial token that granted emissaries power to execute corrupt officials in the field without prior approval.