Chapter 35: Everything for the Official Title

Over the next few days, the Yushan bandits launched successive raids, sweeping through every village and town in the county. With the exception of those powerful gentry who possessed their own heavily fortified estates, all the local squires were thoroughly purged.

The reputation of the Yushan bandits—who killed only the wealthy gentry and spared the common people—spread far and wide, making them famous overnight. Those among the gentry who were quick-witted enough to catch wind of the news immediately packed their belongings, taking their families into the county seat for refuge. Those who were slow to react, or indecisive, were cornered by the bandits and had their entire households slaughtered.

While the gentry who fled to the county seat managed to save their families, their stewards and servants left behind were all killed, and their properties were thoroughly looted, leaving not even a chicken or dog behind. With the autumn harvest fast approaching, the time for collecting grain had arrived. Even if the land outside the city still legally belonged to them, there was no one left to work it, making it impossible to collect any harvest. They had considered sending people back to oversee the laborers, but for some unknown reason, every person sent was killed, as if the Yushan bandits were constantly watching their estates. Terrified, they dared not return.

Across Yishui County, panic spread. A large number of gentry flocked to the county office, pressuring Magistrate Ding to suppress the bandits.

"Gentlemen, it is not that I do not wish to suppress the bandits," Magistrate Ding said, putting on a weary, sorrowful face and speaking in bureaucratic platitudes, "but the Yushan bandits are simply too ferocious. Our last two attempts to suppress them both ended in failure. Even Inspector Liang was killed in battle—surely you are all aware of this? This office is truly helpless!"

"Then request more troops from the prefecture! If two battalions weren't enough last time, send five, or ten—that should be enough, shouldn't it?"

Magistrate Ding was deeply unwilling. He had finally reached an understanding with Old Master Liu, ensuring he no longer had to worry about the threat posed by Li Gui. If he were to rashly request troops to suppress the bandits now, he feared Old Master Liu would not be so easy to deal with. Thinking of this, he brushed them off with excuses: "Suppressing bandits is not something one can just talk about. Those soldiers don't come for free; they demand bribes and kickbacks at every turn. The anti-bandit funds collected last time are long gone, and the county simply cannot afford another round."

Seeing Magistrate Ding’s lazy, evasive attitude, the gentry were filled with silent rage. Who had pocketed the lion’s share of the previous anti-bandit funds? If outsiders didn't know, the gentry certainly did. However, such was the unspoken rule between officials and the gentry; they had to grit their teeth and accept it. But when it came to digging into their own pockets, they were equally unwilling. They snarled, "Then levy a third anti-bandit tax!"

Under normal circumstances, Magistrate Ding might have agreed, but he did not want to suppress the bandits now. He put on a facade of being a man of the people and shook his head. "That will not do. We have already collected twice this year; the merchants and commoners are already at their breaking point. We cannot levy a third time. If this triggers a riot, even this city will no longer be safe."

He spoke only of merchants and commoners, carefully omitting the gentry, making it clear he wanted them to pay. But the gentry were as miserly as mythical beasts—all intake and no output—so how could they be willing to pay?

"The autumn grain collection is imminent. Why not use that as collateral? We can borrow from the families to fund the suppression."

The "autumn grain" referred to the grain tax collected after the harvest, which was sent to the county office, then to the prefecture, and finally to the central government. Magistrate Ding hurriedly shook his head. If the grain tax was not handed over on time, it would jeopardize his career. "How can such an important tax be misappropriated?"

"Magistrate, you must understand: if we remain trapped in the county seat with no one to assist us outside, not a single grain will be collected!"

Magistrate Ding found himself in a bind. Since ancient times, the administrative structure had been such that imperial power did not reach the village level. Management of the grassroots population was entirely absent; to get anything done, one had to rely on the "local worthies." These men, called worthies but acting as local tyrants, used their power over the populace to bargain with the imperial court, sometimes even sidelining local officials to run their own fiefdoms. Without sufficient means, a local official could do nothing against them.

Magistrate Ding was now faced with a dilemma. The gentry were right: if they could not leave the city, the autumn grain would remain unharvested. If he failed to turn in the grain tax, he would be severely punished, and his career would be over. But if he misappropriated the grain tax, the higher authorities would eventually find out, and he would lose his position regardless. Moreover, the gentry would undoubtedly withhold the collected grain to repay themselves, leaving him empty-handed. No matter what he did, his career seemed doomed.

At the mere thought of losing his position, his head throbbed with anxiety. Seeing the gentry still bickering, his anger flared. He slammed the table and roared, "Enough!"

"How dare you act so insolently in my presence! The funds for this anti-bandit campaign will be levied from the gentry. The specific amounts will be delivered to your residences tomorrow. Anyone who dares to resist will be treated as an accomplice to the bandits!"

With that, Magistrate Ding flicked his sleeves and stormed out, leaving the stunned gentry staring at each other in the parlor, completely dumbfounded.

Magistrate Ding had always been polite to the gentry because they helped him control county affairs, ensured he could finish his term smoothly, and even influenced his performance evaluations. But now that he was on the verge of losing his position, why should he care what they thought? Faced with his dilemma, he had arrived at only one solution: take the gentry's money to suppress the bandits, allow them to leave the city to collect the taxes, fulfill his duty to the imperial court, and save his official hat.

As for offending the gentry, Old Master Liu, and the bandit Li Gui—he had offended everyone, but he no longer cared. Everything was secondary to keeping his office. If he lost his position, what use was his life?

Back in his study, after further contemplation, he realized things might not be as bad as he imagined. As long as the prefecture sent strong troops to destroy Li Gui, he would be safe. Even if Old Master Liu were dissatisfied, he would have to endure it. As for the gentry, he had always held them in too high regard, but now that he had nothing left to lose, he saw them clearly.

The gentry were, after all, merely subjects, while he was an official—a successful candidate who had earned his place through the imperial examinations. Even if many of these gentry had powerful backers, here in Yishui County, his word as the magistrate was final. If they dared to retaliate later, that would be a problem for after he had secured his position. Furthermore, as fellow bureaucrats, any retaliation would have to be handled through official channels, where the outcome remained uncertain.

If the gentry dared to withhold tax payments after leaving the city because of today's events, he would show them exactly what a desperate magistrate was capable of. To save his career, Ding Enlu would stop at nothing.