ITIEQ C37

Chapter 37 – This Qiuquan! Refreshing!

From midnight the rain had poured, and by dawn it showed no sign of ceasing.

The yellow earth roads turned into sludge; every cloth shoe, every horse hoof, every rolling wheel splattered mud upon hems and calves. Yet none had leisure to care—they wished only to leave this barren northwest land as soon as possible.

The real master of this caravan ducked from his carriage, only for a heavy droplet from a leaf to slide straight into his collar.

The fat merchant shuddered at once, curling his lips in complaint.

“Of all times, the Huai River just had to break embankment now! Couldn’t it wait, or come sooner? And bad enough I cannot reenter Huzhou—but to end up in miserable Cangzhou instead, a land of poverty where there’s no oil nor water to profit from? All my tallies show the same—this trip, I’ve lost!”

Misfortune tumbling one after another—surely some dirty influence had tainted him, blocking his wealth! When he returned, he must consult a Grand Master to cleanse it.

His belly quivered with his curses, rolls of flesh trembling with every bump of carriage wheel, increasing his spite at this little place. Normally, on every road there were long pavilions every ten li and short ones every five li.¹ But here? Nothing. Not even a travelers’ hut for rest.

“Ha! Forget merchants, even bandits wouldn’t waste their time here!”

The fat merchant sneered, slapping his thigh. But scarcely had the words left his mouth before the horses up front neighed in panic, the procession lurched to a halt, and he nearly rolled across the carriage floor.

“What, what is it now?!”

He fumbled at his cowl, then peeked out—what he saw drained his soul: bare-chested bandits, blades shining, ferocity blazing, rushing upon them like wolves starved of meat!

Terror-stricken, he scrambled back inside, cursing his cursed mouth. Surely his ill-omened words had summoned this! Today he would die here—Zhao Jinshan, cut down far from home!

Sweating and heart pounding, he clawed at the golden ring upon his finger, remembering tales of hands severed for jewels. Pulling till his skin tore, still the ring clung fast—once a treasure, now a burning curse!

Yet time passed, and strangely, no clash of battle reached him. Trembling, he dared lift the curtain.

The fierce brigands surrounded them—but curiously, they did not strike. Their knives poised, but instead their mouths yelped and shouted? Odd behaviour indeed!

The fat merchant wrinkled his face hard, bawling out:

“Good sirs! However much you demand, I will pay—just spare our lives!”

But the black-faced bandit chief ignored him, leaving Zhao almost in tears. What did these fiends want?

Then suddenly—from afar—a great shout cut through:

“Hands up—don’t move!”

“Broad daylight, and you dare prey upon the road!”

“This is mine—second-class merit! Nobody steal it from me!”²

The merchant blinked—then joy surged. Rescuers! Heaven hadn’t forsaken me after all!

But even the bandit chief sighed in relief. At once, his entire gang dropped blades with a clatter and threw hands sky-high as if desperate to be seen.

The merchant froze again. Not a bit of resistance? Were these not murderous wolves, but cowardly sheep?

The soldiers, upon seeing such meek surrender, also hesitated—yet tied their hands as per regulation. One young soldier muttered:

“Eh? So easy? But then how will my great courage shine? With no fight, how will the officers approve this merit? Can’t they even pretend?”

The captain thumped his skull.

“Fool! Always scheming for false merit. Did you forget what books ordered you to study?”

Chastened, the soldier fell silent.

The captain then glared sternly at the brigands:

“You knew our Qiuquan is building a civilized county! Yet you disturb us here—do you realize how badly this disrupts our public duties?”

The bandits nodded rapidly, thick smiles across faces.

“Well, our policy is leniency. Since no blood was shed, you’ll serve three years of labor reform³. Admit fault, correct yourselves—understand?”

The brigands beamed from ear to ear, bowing heads eagerly.

A new recruit whispered:

“Captain… shouldn’t they dread this? Why look joyous?”

The captain smirked.

“You think every place is like Qiuquan? Here, labor reform means farmland, full bellies, reading classes, good clothing. They’re sharper than you! Perform well, and there’s a chance to stay, registered forever as Qiuquan folk. Word must’ve leaked.”

The recruit gasped:

“No wonder people reported idlers wandering about outside—trying to get themselves registered here!”

“And that’s because our governor is kind-hearted—tell me, where else in the empire would such luck exist!”

The fat merchant relaxed slightly—but suspicion returned. Watching soldiers chatter with bandits in cheerful tone, he understood. Of course—collusion! An inside deal to milk us outsiders for coin. Here in this poor land, what else but such tricks could feed them?

Still, a seasoned merchant knows when to bend. Think of it as buying the road. He forced a smile, approached, and slipped a heavy pouch into an officer’s arms.

The officer recoiled.

“What are you doing?”

Zhao thought he wanted more, and with pain pulled another purse from his robes, near to tears.

“A humble token of gratitude… for your efforts…”

But the captain shoved them back, eyes blazing.

“You test me?!”

“Eh?”

The captain barked out memorized words, rattled fast:

“In Qiuquan, following our governor’s example, we strive as civilized and courteous people. Anti-corruption is strictly enforced! Since you are an outsider ignorant of our rules, this time I spare you. Next time, it will be judged as bribery!”

The merchant stared blank.

Rejecting gold? Who on earth rejects gold?

But seeing no way around, he stuffed his own purses back, mumbling half-genuine praise:

“Such lofty virtue, truly beyond me…”

Yet in his heart, he thought these officials dense as wood.

“Could we at least continue our journey?” he asked, smiling painfully.

But the captain’s eyes flicked to his caravans’ wagons, voice sharp:

“Merchant, are you? What county is your registry?”

Zhao stammered: “This humble one of Jiaozhou… I have travel papers, see here…”

The captain waved.

“Then you cannot yet go. You will first rest days in our Qiuquan.”

Zhao’s face twisted. As expected! This wasn’t courtesy—it was trapping him. Forced, head down, he followed, leading caravan and goods inside.

If these rascals force me too hard… I’ll march to the provincial capital and sue until their governor peels his own skin!

The bound bandits trudged in before them like docile sheep. Behind trailed Zhao’s carriages.

Now with time, Zhao furtively observed. The little county’s policemen—each wielded blades of fine iron, their boots lined, faces ruddy with meat. Finer than the armed men of Jiaozhou! Yet—Jiaozhou was a famed rich land, Qiuquan a barren frontier—how could this be?

Doubts multiplied, yet outwardly he smiled and bowed.

Behind, his household servants plodded silently, tired, dreading abandonment. For contract-bound servants, masters could abandon them as baggage if useless—it was common.

Mist clung about the woods. The road turned less muddied, soft thuds replaced squelches. Startled, the servants looked down.

Paved stone?! Black-blue slabs, etched with clear chisel marks, extending broad and far: a stone road three zhang wide!⁴

Even major highways had no such! Only wealthy estates laid stone floors indoors—never thrown beneath common carts. What prodigality!

Servants gawked, eyes darting to master’s carriage.

Inside, Zhao adjusted for comfort, but when hearing the solid clop of hooves, pulled open curtain—nearly fainting.

What… is Qiuquan?

Alarmed, he tampered with his purses—secreting half, clutching half tighter.

Soon the captain grinned at him.

“Come down. Carriage cannot go further. Have your driver park at the yard. I’ll lead you to our governor.”

Supported, Zhao stepped out. What he saw widened his eyes. Ordered streets, smoke of kitchens, peace prevailing—not the desolation he expected.

Wiping sweat, he forced a grin. “Yes, yes… please lead.”

Several other soldiers grumbled:

“Captain, why always you get to meet the governor first? You’ve gone twice already this month!”

The captain knocked their heads.

“Nonsense! I have proper matters! Unlike you fools lusting to curry favor!”

Zhao chuckled, but listened closely. These men, once fierce with blades—now dotingly praising “Governor Shen.” And that name—he had never heard from great registers. No record of a Shen in Qiuquan—only a Xue lad once assigned years ago.

While pondering, they reached bustling quarters. His heart jolted again: rows upon rows of tile-roof houses, layered like black scales. Even Jiaozhou paled compared to such a sight!

He tugged the captain’s sleeve, fat fingers trembling:

“Whose homes are these?”

The captain smiled proudly.

“‘Family housing,’ built under direct supervision of our governor. Not for common folk!”

Zhao forced laughter through clenched teeth, his rolling belly heaving: “Ah, as I thought. Certainly not ordinary dwellings.”

“Indeed! My wife and child live in one, too—I’ve served since the governor arrived. Others must wait years yet!”

Zhao gasped, nearly choking. But before words, a mass of villagers rushed by, sweeping him aside.

“Why gather so loud?!” the captain barked.

“This is our guest! Be civilized!”

Friends in the crowd joked:

“Single Sir is lecturing at the schoolyard! Whoever attends gets fertilizer gift too! Your daughter ran ahead already!”

The captain corrected eagerly:

“Not fertilizer, chemical fertilizer! ‘Agricultural seminar,’ not just ‘talk of farming’! You people only hear ‘fertilizer’ and drool!”

Laughter, chatter, and stampede.

The captain shook head, leading Zhao further inward to the government compound. His hands gestured:

“The governor is handling affairs now. Wait a while, sit here.”

Zhao agreed, but eyes widened at the armed guards stationed—blades glinting real steel. Summer neared, yet his sweat chilled.

Inside, voices thundered:

“These reports! Squeezed, they drip water—where is the thinking in your brains?”

“How many times have I said—title in No.2 script, text in No.3! If major, send in red-headed file! How can such basics still go wrong?”

“I see no individuality, no reflection!”

Shouted words seared through the doors. Zhao Jinshan’s flesh crawled.

When the doors slammed open—he saw within: aged officials seated serene as monks, faint sly smiles upon lips; while fresh graduates, once lauded in hometowns, cowered white-faced, buried near to the ground.

And amid it—Shen Qinghe, his voice cold:

“Just look at Yuan here. Equal classmates with you all, ranking no higher, yet he already leads his own project—and is dispatched abroad! You know the climate now. Your skills are lacking. Your competitiveness weak.”

“And when this quarter ends—how many of you will remain?”

His words cut sharp. A sob burst.

One could bear no more, and broke down crying at once.

Footnotes

1. Long pavilions & short pavilions (長亭/短亭) – Ancient roadside rest stops: long pavilion every ten li (~5 km), short pavilion every five li. Merchants and travelers relied on them. 
2. “Second-class merit” (二等功) – Military/official reward rank for successful arrests or battles, part of imperial merit system. 
3. Labor Reform – Here anachronistic: Shen uses “labor reform” like a modern penal colony, mixing punishment with work and education. Normally, convicts in ancient China were exiled to frontier or forced labor, but in Qiuquan treated humanely. 
4. Zhang (丈) – Traditional unit about 3.3 meters. A road three zhang wide = ~10 meters: extraordinary luxury for a county road.