At sunset, Shao Shuyi headed west along the Lou River toward home.
Passing through East First District, another commotion broke out.
A piercing howl nearly rent the evening sky: "In the first month, the authorities detained my boats, claiming they were needed for the summer transport. For months I could neither haul freight nor fish, making it hard to earn a living. Now I must also furnish tribute goods and provisions for boatmen—the expenses are enormous, beyond my means. After years of transporting grain, I am already bare walls; my wife is even pledged to another, and I have lost all face, hoping only to raise my two children. You won't even leave me this livelihood—what back taxes? I am truly ruined."
At the height of his emotion, he cried "Ai-yah!", tears streaming down his face, hoisted a large axe, rushed to the boat moored by the river, and hacked at it furiously. Wood chips flew, just like his falling tears.
Hearing the sound, Shao Shuyi quickened his steps and moved closer, only to see four or five sturdy men rush forward and pin the man to the ground.
The man struggled incessantly, sobbing: "This boat is a calamity, a calamity! Without it, the Transport Office wouldn't have repeatedly sent me to sea, and I wouldn't have lost everything. Let me destroy it, destroy it!"
"Damn you!" A brand-new leather boot stepped on his face, ground it hard, and only then did the boot's owner say: "Li Fu, I know you bear a grudge. But in this day and age, who doesn't have some grievance? Since I became lizheng, I've paid out over three hundred ding in contributions, and sold off much of the mulberry groves and fields passed down from my ancestors. Originally, after my one-year term ended, I could step down and have nothing more to do with this, but the prefecture and county offices forced me to serve another year. You feel wronged, but I feel even more wronged! Today I'll be straight with you: if you don't come up with two ding in notes, I'll demolish your house and sell your two children. I mean it."
Li Fu's crying softened a little, but his eyes grew vacant.
The men holding him took the axe, slowly released him, and Li Fu didn't get up, just lay there blankly.
An official standing beside the lizheng sighed: "Forget it, the summer transport is urgent. Since he's going out to sea, let's discuss it when he returns. By then a sum of freight money will be issued; I'll say a word, and the transport official can deduct it directly."
The lizheng's tense expression relaxed somewhat.
After a moment, he kicked Li Fu and said: "Good-for-nothing, get up."
Li Fu's gaze slowly regained focus, as if narrowly escaping calamity had restored some of his spirit. As for paying the back taxes in the future, that was the future's problem—one lived a day at a time in this age and couldn't think too far ahead.
Shao Shuyi quietly slipped behind the crowd and asked a bystander in a low voice: "Aren't back taxes supposed to be collected at month's end? Why act now?"
"The government doesn't have that much patience," the man said softly. "It was said tomorrow was the final deadline, but someone fled with his whole family, so the government couldn't sit still and sent archers from the Patrol Inspection Office to the countryside to urge collection. Speaking of Li Fu, he truly suffers. Long ago, some sold their boats and fled, or deceptively registered their boats under others' names to evade service obligation. Li Fu is law-abiding, yet ends up worst off—worse than those who sold boats to evade service."
Shao Shuyi was stunned. It truly applied to that saying: in the dying days of a dynasty, the loyal and patriotic suffered the most.
"So the dates for collecting back taxes differ by district," he said instinctively.
"Indeed." The man sighed. "Times are bad, and delinquent households are growing. My family also barely paid up, with almost nothing left at home. The zhushou is no good either, helping the lizheng bully us, capable of anything. Truth be told, the Chen schoolmaster of the Second District is better—he held out for a long time, letting delinquent households pay their levies at month's end. But—"
"But what?" Shao Shuyi asked.
"It has to be paid sooner or later. If not, they seize people—unspeakably miserable."
"During the spring and summer transports, boat households brave danger at sea—how can they seize people in the rear? Doesn't that hurt morale?"
"You're inexperienced. Which year doesn't have such things? The elders say Emperor Wuzong treated our boat households best, yet it was precisely in Wuzong's reign that boat households hauled grain at the front while the government arrested their families and threw them in jail at the rear."
"Then what after they're arrested?"
"They come out after paying the arrears. Family members suffering is inevitable, and not a few die in prison."
"Is there really no way?" Shao Shuyi asked.
"What way is there? Unless selling oneself into slavery—and finding a good household."
Shao Shuyi said nothing.
In his view, this option wasn't necessarily safe either. Now even gentry and powerful local men couldn't necessarily protect their property; if the situation worsened, who knew officials and nobles wouldn't suffer? "Officials having no peace" happened in a dynasty's final days, especially in the Great Yuan.
Still, what could one do?
For now, relying on officials and great gentry was the best option; the yamen runners wouldn't dare trouble them for a while. But failing to pay the arrears meant prison and a high risk of death.
This screwed-up business had nothing to do with right or wrong, and not much with the zhushou or lizheng either, because they themselves lost everything trying to meet tax quotas; a perfectly good gentry household could be forced to sell fields and property, or even flee with the whole family.
This was systemic oppression, a manifestation of the Great Yuan's failed governance; everyone was swept up in it, forced to hurt one another, and the only solution was to smash the old order and start anew.
Shao Shuyi left the crowd.
On the way home, he saw Patrol Inspection Office troops carrying sabers and bows. There were only thirty of them, and they didn't look like much of a fighting force, but more than enough to deal with a disorganized rabble of boat households—admittedly, there were over ten thousand boat households, but scattered across multiple Guards Battalions, and even fewer in any given village or hamlet.
Thirty archers, plus twenty-plus yamen runners, were enough to pose a deadly threat to him.
Some things had to be sped up.
******
Back home, Shao Shuyi, hungry enough that his belly pressed against his back, immediately started cooking.
He didn't plan to skimp anymore. After rinsing the rice, he casually chopped some vegetables, sprinkled salt, mixed them together, and cooked a pot of vegetable rice.
After three large bowls, he lightly rubbed his slightly bloated belly, very satisfied.
He had figured it out: if he ever had to run, this grain would be a burden to carry. With his still-developing small frame, even traveling light was tiring, let alone carrying gear.
He should prepare some cash; it would be useful when running, at least letting him hold out longer for a turn of fortune.
But his mood was still very heavy.
The world was just that cruel. No one was deliberately making things difficult for him, no one was mocking him, waiting for him to strut and fall flat on his face.
There was only numbness, the indifference of each minding their own business, at most feeling a bit of sympathy when seeing others' misfortunes, sighing and that was that.
In this world, you couldn't even find a concrete target for hatred—only the vague "Great Yuan."
After a sigh, Shao Shuyi decided to start saving himself tomorrow, counting it as his last effort before running away—after all, fleeing to an unfamiliar place might not turn out any better.
Starting from the tenth, for several consecutive days the weather was somewhat gloomy.
Shao Shuyi did day labor for four days, settled daily, and earned two guan and five hundred wen in notes.
On the tenth, a boat came from Zhangpu carrying knives, ceramics, rattan, and such; he moved cargo all day and earned six hundred wen in notes.
On the eleventh, at the wharf he moved Goryeo celadon, Goryeo bronze ware, and Silla lacquer, earning six hundred wen in notes.
On the twelfth, a Huihui merchant returned from overseas, and two large ships of spices, pearls, shark skin, and other overseas treasures awaited transport; he earned six hundred wen in notes.
On the last day, he went to a wealthy household holding a wedding to help with odd jobs; the work was easy but it was his most lucrative day, earning seven hundred wen in notes.
After these four days of work, he was nearly worn out.
He had to admit that not only could his body not endure long-term hard labor, but spiritually he couldn't bear it either.
After all, he was not a person of this era. Things contemporaries took for granted, he considered suffering; he truly couldn't compete with these people. If he kept this up, before thirty he'd be covered in injuries and illness—and would he have money for treatment then? Dream on.
On the fourteenth, just as Shao Shuyi gritted his teeth and prepared to go out to keep saving "travel money," a large group of yamen runners appeared outside the east end of the village.
They were extremely tyrannical, directly seizing the home of the village's wealthiest man, Mr. Wu, for lodging, and driving out his family; then came pandemonium, and the Liu family next door to the Wu residence had their door smashed in by the runners.
Soon after, old Liu's whole family was dragged out, weeping and wailing, pitiful beyond words.
A runner shouted at them; from the distance, Shao Shuyi could only vaguely make out the gist: if the Liu family paid their arrears, they'd be fine; otherwise, they'd be taken away today and put in the cangue for public display.
Shao Shuyi was terrified.
Seeing two Patrol Inspection Office archers start heading west, he hesitated almost not at all, darted back into the inner room, looked at the remaining one dou and several sheng of rice, gritted his teeth, hoisted it onto his back, opened the back door, and slipped out.
He ran fast, his lungs puffing like a bellows.
He leaped over a shallow drainage ditch, landing somewhat unsteadily, nearly spraining his foot.
Dense branches tore his clothes; he didn't care, continuing forward.
After running several dozen steps, he crossed a small wooden bridge and hid in the reeds by the riverbank.
Only now did he realize how disheveled he was: clothes in tatters, his right ankle not quite right, and small cuts on the back of his hand and even his face from reed leaves, blood oozing out.
He carefully parted the reeds, gazing across the small river, where his home was and the village where he had grown up.
Shouts, crying, and cursing from the village grew louder, interspersed with the sounds of doors being smashed in and boxes and cabinets being rummaged through.
Shao Shuyi sighed inwardly and turned away from the riverbank.
But he didn't know where to go; the vast heavens and earth, and for a moment there was no place for him.
Chapter 7