Great Tang Idyll - Volume 4 Chapter 51

Qi Dong finds the two children interesting at first, but now he can no longer hold onto his earlier thoughts. As he listens to their casual words, sweat begins to pour down his face. The weather, once unbearably hot, suddenly feels cold, an icy chill creeping through him.

If it were up to him, Qi Dong would strangle the two kids on the spot, but the idea remains only a fantasy. Guards stand beside them, and even if they weren’t there, he wouldn’t dare make a move.

He knows exactly who these children are—one is the governor’s son, and the other is his future daughter-in-law. Anyone who tries to harm them wouldn’t even last long enough for the crossbow-wielding guards to react. The people would tear them apart first.

Since he can’t use force, Qi Dong racks his brain for another solution. But he realizes he has nothing that could interest the children. Grabbing a handful of mud from the ground—full of coarse sand—he begins stirring it and sifting out the larger grains, leaving only the finer particles.

While everyone else eats, Qi Dong finds a small grass stick and starts carving. Before long, he finishes two little clay figurines holding hands, their faces shaped like Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan. Despite the discomfort of sweat-drenched clothes clinging to his body, he forces a smile and walks over to the children, who are eating nearby.

“Young Master, do you think this is fun? If so, I can make more for you. I can make anything you want,” Qi Dong says.

This is the only idea he can come up with, hoping it might work.

Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan pause mid-bite and glance at the figurines, then look at Qi Dong. They nod approvingly.

Before Qi Dong can say more, Zhang Xiaobao speaks up. “It’s fun! I didn’t expect you to be not only good with numbers but also skilled with your hands. Can you really make anything we ask for?”

“Of course! Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it,” Qi Dong replies, hopeful.

Wang Juan glances at the salt boiling area, then smiles. “I want a clay figure like that one over there.”

“What kind?” Qi Dong asks.

“One that represents a county magistrate who always thinks of the people,” Wang Juan replies, still smiling. “Someone who doesn’t act out of crooked intentions or skim money off the salt. He must have a heart purer than a gemstone, eyes clear and full of spirit. Even if his nose is a bit flat, or he’s short, or has small eyes, in the eyes of the common folk, he should appear tall—towering like a mountain, vast like the sea. Can you make a figure like that?”

Qi Dong’s hand trembles, and the clay figurine falls to the ground with a dull thud. He immediately drops to his knees before Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan, terror etched across his face, his entire body trembling.

Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan go on eating as if nothing has happened, occasionally passing food to each other like two innocent children.

The people nearby, having heard Wang Juan’s words, quickly piece everything together. Anyone with half a brain knows who she’s talking about. It becomes clear that Qi Dong has been lying these past few days—pretending to boil salt for others or to save the provincial governor money, when in fact he’s been hoarding it for himself.

Their rage surges. They drop their food and begin to surround him. If Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan weren’t present, someone might have thrown him into the salt pot by now—to see if his heart is really as pure as a gem.

“I’m guilty. I know I was wrong. Please, forgive me,” Qi Dong pleads, kowtowing repeatedly. He had hoped his deception would stay hidden, but now he realizes the governor must have seen through it and sent the two children here.

Zhang Xiaobao finishes the last grain of rice, smacks his lips, rinses his mouth, and looks down at the kneeling Qi Dong.

“My father asked me to ask you,” Zhang Xiaobao begins, “are you so deep in gambling debts that you can’t focus on your work?”

“No, I never gamble,” Qi Dong replies quickly, shaking his head.

“Is someone in your family sick and in need of expensive treatment?”

“No one’s sick. Everyone’s healthy.”

“Do you have children you need to marry off?”

“My son is ten, and my daughter is seven. They’re still too young.”

“Then there’s no excuse for embezzlement,” Zhang Xiaobao says calmly. “What punishment do you think fits? Maybe the livestock prison, or seventy lashes—if the count is wrong, make it a hundred. A year in jail? Or execution, if it’s serious. Or maybe bribery and collusion with the wealthy—that might get you a lighter sentence. But either way, you’re guilty.”

Qi Dong shudders. There are things he dares not say aloud—like how the new provincial governor’s family would be executed ten times over if the rules were applied properly. Bribery, shady deals—it’s all there. But they’re untouchable, while he is not.

He doesn’t dare speak further. All he can do is kowtow again and again.

But Zhang Xiaobao doesn’t pass judgment just yet. He sees potential in Qi Dong—he’s clever, capable. With proper discipline, he could save a lot of trouble down the line.

Thinking it through, Zhang Xiaobao decides to make an example of him. “Guards, tie him up and bring him to my father. Give him a hundred strokes and lock him up for a year. If he survives the punishment, that’s his good fortune.”

The guards, already prepared, step in and tie Qi Dong up. He doesn’t resist. A hundred lashes terrifies him. No matter how careful they are, he knows he’ll be seriously injured.

Technically, Zhang Xiaobao has no authority to give such orders, but Qi Dong doesn’t dare challenge him. In truth, he’s relieved. If Zhang Xiaobao and the others had left him to the villagers, he’d be dead by now.

“How dare you embezzle and twist the law?” Zhang Xiaobao says. “Do you think I don’t have good accountants in my household? Everyone, please resume your meal—the bad guys have been taken care of.” Then he turns to the clerk. “Oh, and the one who helped him—take him too.”

Qi Dong is dragged away. Zhang Xiaobao turns to the crowd and orders the clerk who colluded with him to be arrested as well. Then he and Wang Juan head off to wash their dishes, smiling as they leave.

Zhang Xiaobao doesn’t worry about word getting out. It will spread like wildfire. By the time they return to the mansion, the whole town will know. The details might be exaggerated, but that only works in his favor—the people will celebrate the fact that a corrupt official has been caught.

Back at the mansion, Zhang Zhong hears what happened. He hadn’t known about the fake accounts. After learning the full story, he can only sigh. How foolish of Qi Dong to try deceiving Xiaobao, who manages the records so meticulously. He brought this upon himself.

Qi Dong is not taken to Zhang Zhong, but instead locked up in the woodshed, left alone in a corner. He spends the entire afternoon in psychological torment, trying to understand what went wrong. The salt used for cooking is clearly different from the salt being boiled—he had thought it would go unnoticed. It’s so obvious now. Could the governor have set him up?

What he doesn’t realize is that the fatal mistake wasn’t the salt—it was underestimating Zhang Xiaobao’s accounting. Even something as small as firewood is recorded, down to the last detail.

“Xiaobao, are we really going to leave him locked up like that?” Wang Juan asks after they return.

“We’ll give him some water tonight. Let him think things through,” Zhang Xiaobao replies. “He’ll stay in there for three days with no food. Then we’ll let him out—if he figures out why he wasn’t beaten, and what he has to do next.”

To Zhang Xiaobao, this is only the beginning of Qi Dong’s test.