Chapter 81: Blessings and Misfortunes Intertwined (Part Two)

“What?!” Zhang Qian’s face drained of color. He gave a hurried bow to Zhang Ruoxu, then dashed off without another word.

“Stop right there! If even Guo’s second son can’t handle it, what do you think you can do?” Zhang Ruoxu, with a swiftness belying his age, caught Zhang Qian by the arm.

“Uncle!” Fearing he might pull the elder over, Zhang Qian didn’t dare struggle too hard, but stared wide-eyed in protest. “That’s my house! If Guo Er is fighting someone inside, they must be coming for me—”

“Guo’s second son might seem rash, but his mind is deep as a ravine,” Zhang Ruoxu refused to let go, meeting his glare with his own. “If he dared use force, he’s already considered whether his family can bear the consequences. Even if he hasn’t, in battle you don’t send the commander into the fray before you even know the enemy! You mustn’t act as general yourself!”

That last point struck home, and Zhang Qian stopped struggling. “Uncle, do you mean the one who came today is just a pawn?”

“I can’t be sure, but you must at least find out who you’re dealing with first!” Zhang Ruoxu released his grip, shaking his head with a cold laugh. “You’ve just arrived—how many people could you have possibly offended? Anyone seeking trouble now is either after the life-saving elixir or the Six Spirits Floral Water that has all the women of Chang’an clamoring for it.”

This was his judgment, shaped by years of experience in officialdom. Otherwise, what reason could there be for someone to come looking for trouble at Zhang Qian’s door? But before he finished, Ren Cong blurted out, “No, that’s not it, Uncle, Senior Brother, the man is a clerk from Weinan County’s works office. He’s not here for the floral water—he’s here to press Senior Brother into labor service! They say Weinan County will build irrigation channels this winter. Now that Senior Brother is registered as head of a household, he has to serve as foreman for his district!”

“A works office clerk?” Now it was Zhang Ruoxu’s turn to look bewildered. He frowned and pressed further, “How does a minor scribe dare trouble a local gentryman? Is he new here? Or did you fail to pay the corvée replacement fee when turning in your land tax this year?”

Since the founding of the Tang, the empire had enforced the land tax and labor service system. In recent years, the court rarely waged war or imposed heavy demands at home, so local governments seldom conscripted peasants for labor, preferring they pay in silk or cloth instead. Zhang Ruoxu, elderly and retired with honors, had no concern for such levies. Wealthy rural families, too, would pay the corvée money in advance with their taxes to avoid the hardship. Zhang Qian, though new to Tang regulations, was supported by Guo Nu and Ren Cong, so a slip-up seemed unlikely—unless his two junior brothers had been utterly careless.

Sure enough, Ren Cong hastily explained, “We paid! I handled it myself. That’s exactly why Guo Nu got into a fight with the clerk—because we’d already settled the fee!”

“So, did the county office not record the payment, or did someone embezzle it and then frame your senior brother?” Zhang Ruoxu found this all the more incredible, quickening his pace as he pressed for details.

“It was recorded, but today they returned it!” Guo Nu’s eyes blazed with anger. “That clerk named Wei said the county hadn’t foreseen the autumn floods when collecting the fees, so now, taking future needs into account, they’re returning the money. Five days from now, Senior Brother must report in person to serve, or the authorities will treat the matter with utmost seriousness!”

This was clearly a pretext for picking a fight—no wonder Guo Nu had lost his temper. His indignation was understandable, but Zhang Ruoxu, a man near fifty, was not so easily fooled by appearances.

He quickened his step yet again, accompanying Zhang Qian, and shook his head with a wry smile. “Serious, is it? If they truly meant to play by the rules, why did they allow you to pay instead of serving? This is just an excuse. Someone in Weinan must have been instructed to test the waters here in Yongzhao. Or someone resents you making a fortune without cutting them in.”

“But to cut them in, they’d have to qualify first!” Ren Cong muttered, jogging to keep up. “Even the Duke of Duan invested real money to get a share. Does this man really think a few words will get him a piece?”

“It’s not the clerk—it’s the man behind him, or perhaps the one behind that,” Zhang Ruoxu, experienced as he was, continued to peel back the layers as they walked. “This Clerk Wei is just a probe. Behind him is someone relying either on his current authority or some greater connection. And that final backer must be powerful enough to rival the Duke of Bao’s family or the Guo Prefect’s clan. But whatever the case, there’s no need for you to step in today. Let Guo Nu give this clerk a thrashing. Once the advance scout is dealt with, the real player will at least send someone of rank next time. Then you can respond accordingly.”

“Yes, sir!” Zhang Qian, despite his modern business acumen, was all but helpless against the machinations of an eighth-century bureaucracy, so he accepted Zhang Ruoxu’s strategy without objection.

“My guess is you can’t avoid sharing the profits, but if you offer anything before meeting the true power behind this, they’ll only press for more—and the clerks will take their cut, too. So, keep calm. Stay calm!” Fearing the younger men would act rashly, the old gentleman added with a smile, “Come, slow down a bit. I’m old and can’t keep up. Let’s watch the commotion from a distance. Who knows, before Guo Nu finishes with the clerk, the main party might arrive!”

With that, he halted, bending to gasp for breath. Zhang Qian and Ren Cong, their panic now eased, slowed their pace to accompany the teacher.

As it happened, Zhang Ruoxu’s prediction came true. Before their breaths had steadied, the sound of shouting and neighing horses came from the country road leading to Zhang Qian’s home. Soon, a familiar figure, surrounded by eight constables, rode straight up to the Zhang family’s gates.

Had he anticipated the opponent so precisely, Zhang Ruoxu ought to have been pleased. But instead, his face changed dramatically, his brow knitting into a knot. “Zishou? How can it be him?”

“It’s Brother Zishou? Impossible!” Zhang Qian, recognizing the figure as none other than Zhang Jiuling—the future illustrious chancellor of the Kaiyuan era—shook his head emphatically. Though they had met only once, Zhang Jiuling’s name shone brightly in the annals of history and literature. If he were a greedy official, and so crude at that, how could later generations praise him as upright and just?

Zhang Ruoxu’s home was not far from Zhang Qian’s, and on higher ground. Thus, while the two men were still stunned, they saw Zhang Jiuling dismount and stride into Zhang Qian’s courtyard, fixing Guo Nu and the middle-aged man—who had paused their scuffle at his arrival—with a fierce glare.

Like a flash of lightning, Zhang Ruoxu’s eyes grew sharp as mirrors. “Zishou is in deep green today, with a silver belt—he’s been promoted! And at just the right moment!” (Note: Deep green robes and a silver belt were the formal attire of a sixth-rank Tang official.)

He stroked his beard and chuckled. “Heh, heh! The blessed needn’t hurry; the unblessed fret in vain. Zishou must be here for the alcohol distillation technique. You two are young and swift—don’t wait for me, hurry home! Any later and that clerk Wei really might be frightened to death!”

Even as he spoke, they saw from afar that Clerk Wei had thrown himself to the ground, kowtowing repeatedly to Guo Nu, who ignored him and rushed to open the main gate for Zhang Jiuling.